At the Edge of the World
by DiamondDustOhSnap
Summary: Ignis gets forced out of his comfort zone when Aranea Highwind becomes an unexpected guest at Cape Caem.
1. An Unexpected Guest

_Author's note: After writing my first Ignea/HighSpecs fic (The Far and Distant Light), I really wanted to explore their relationship from a different angle, without Ignis' sight being an issue, and also have a chance to write about the bros and Iris more. This story takes place just before the events in Altissia in Cape Caem, and should have a lighter tone (well, until we catch up to a certain point…) Things will get fluffy, and there will be some romantic comedy elements too._

 _This first chapter is doing a lot of setting up, so bear with me—it gets cuter after :)_

PART ONE: AN UNEXPECTED GUEST

The sun was setting and the roads were clear. Ignis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, even though it hadn't slid down—a minor nervous tick. He looked in the rearview mirror at the sleeping form in the backseat and felt unease.

"Is she still breathing?" he asked.

"Yeah," replied Gladio from behind. "But she's still out cold. Think she'll be okay?"

"We won't know until we check her properly, but she seems like a tough one. And Noct's still hanging in there?"

Noctis let out a weak groan in response, his eyes closed and head propped against Gladio's shoulder. "He is, but he's looking a little green."

The day hadn't gone as Ignis had planned. The four of them had delivered the mythril to Cid just yesterday, who was busy working on the boat that would take them to Altissia. Talcott was acting as his assistant, and they were relieved to see the boy so happily distracted after everything he'd been through. While they waited for the work to be completed, the group decided to investigate a hoard of daemons that had appeared in the Cleigne region to kill some time. However, a large group of Imperials found them near the Rock of Ravatogh, and a vicious battle had ensued. Things were looking worrisome to Ignis, when a surprise visitor dropped down in her airship.

Aranea Highwind had come tumbling down upon them, but to their surprise, she didn't fight their party. She started attacking the Imperials instead.

"Looked like you boys could use a hand!" she shouted, before spinning off into some dizzying maneuvers. They all watched her in surprise. She may have assisted them with the mythril the other day, but as far as they knew, she was still working for the Empire. With Aranea on their side, the battle turned, and they soon had the upper hand. Almost.

They hadn't noticed a strong bioblaster machinery employed by one of the MTs as it set off, hitting Noctis hard. At the same moment, an MT exploded too close to Aranea, sending shrapnel flying towards her and knocking her out. It was one too many things happening all at once and the group was spent, their reactions a touch too delayed.

With half the group down, it gave a couple of MTs the opportunity to highjack Aranea's ship and fly off—clearly the empire wanted it back—leaving only a few of their cohort behind. Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio made quick work of them before checking on their fallen comrades.

Once in the clear, they ran over to Noctis. Prompto used an antidote on him, but it wouldn't work. Ignis tried another couple of strains he had brought, with no results. They agreed it would be best to get back to Cape Caem immediately and go through the supplies there.

That's when they heard Aranea groaning in pain several feet away. They had almost forgotten about her. She was curled up on the ground, singed from the exploding MT and her leg bleeding badly.

"What do we do with her?" Gladio asked, scooping Noctis up.

"Uh, obviously we have to take her with us," replied Prompto.

"What?"

"Well, we can't just leave her like this."

Ignis ran over and examined Aranea quickly. "She's unconscious and badly hurt," he shouted, and then furrowed his brows. "But she was working for the Empire…"

"Yeah, but she helped us out just now," Prompto argued. "Why would she be attacking the Imperials and not us if she wasn't on our side?"

"I admit, it's strange," Ignis replied. "But I'm not sure if we can trust her."

"Guys, we gotta get Noct some help. Let's make up our minds quickly," Gladio said.

"Come on Ignis," Prompto pleaded. "If she's passed out, she won't even know where we're going. Let's just take her with us."

"Fine. But as soon as she's awake, I have questions."

And now here he was, driving to Cape Caem with a mysteriously poisoned Noctis and an injured Aranea in the backseat. He hoped she wouldn't awaken until they arrived, ensuring she didn't see the way to the safe house.

They pulled up to Cape Caem after several hours of uneventful driving. Ignis felt relieved at the sight of the little house perched on the hill by the coast, eager to get Noctis looked after. Gladio got out and scooped Noctis up in his arms. It seemed so easy for him, as if Noctis weighed no more than a child. Ignis thought he looked quite like one in the bigger man's arms and felt a rush of sadness at the sight of the injured King.

"I'll carry Aranea," Prompto announced, but fumbled clumsily as he tried to lift her out of the backseat.

"Here, let me help," said Ignis. He reached under her and, with some effort, lifted her up and out of the Regalia. "You can catch her if I drop her."

"I could have carried her. My arm's just a little sore after battle," Prompto insisted.

"Must be all that heavy duty gunslinging."

Ignis carried Aranea up the never-ending steps to the house. She wasn't too heavy, but her armor added a considerable amount of weight. He looked down at her, feeling concerned as he noticed how pale she looked, even in the dim light. He had no idea what to make of her assistance. She had aided them with acquiring the mythril, but she had been paid to do so. What was she doing helping them battle against the Imperials all of a sudden?

Prompto held the door of the house open for Ignis, and he followed Gladio's voice up the stairs to the left, where the guest room was. He entered and quickly laid Aranea down on a bed at the far end of the room, making sure her breathing sounded stable. He then went straight to Noctis.

Gladio and Iris were already hovering over him, trying different antidotes.

"These are all the types we have in the house," Iris said. "I really hope this last one works…"

She administered the antidote, and they all waited in anticipation. At first, nothing seemed to change; Noctis was still unconscious and looking slightly green. Then he started to flutter his eyelids and coughed weakly. Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

Noctis slowly opened his eyes and peered at his friends.

"Noct! Are you okay?" Iris asked.

"Uh…" Noctis could barely speak.

"Follow my finger," said Ignis, moving his hand above Noctis' face, pointing his index. Noctis followed the finger back and forth with his eyes, but didn't move his head.

"Myyyy… head. Caaaan't mooo…"

"What was that?" asked Gladio.

"I think he said he can't move his head," replied Ignis.

Noctis wet his lips and tried to speak again. "I… can't… feel. Any… thing."

His speech was getting better, but not much else improved.

"Noct, can you feel when I touch your leg?" Ignis asked, squeezing Noctis' ankle.

"No."

"Can you breath normally?"

"Ish."

"All right. It would appear you were hit with a poison that paralyzes you. The antidote we tried could only do so much, but at least your speech is back. I've read about these strains before—they usually require a combination of antidotes—though I'm afraid they are harder to come by."

"Then get… ooon… it."

"We will. But I need to do some research first—no sense in going on a while goose chase. Iris, do you have any books on curatives?"

"Yes, a few. I'll find them for you right away!" Iris ran towards to the door, but stopped in her tracks and turned back around, remembering something. "But, uh… Ignis? Who is she?"

Iris pointed to Aranea's slumped figure on the bed next to them. It seemed everyone had forgotten about her once again. Ignis walked over to finally examine her.

"Iris, would you also grab a first aid kit please," he instructed. "She'll need a lot of patching up."

"Sure. But who exactly is she?" The suspicion in Iris' voice was thinly veiled.

"Just a friend," Ignis replied.

—

Ignis was tempted to continue checking on Noctis, but hearing Gladio and Prompto getting him to talk reassured him. Logic also dictated that he should be focusing on Aranea instead, who seemed worse off than he initially thought. She had pieces of metal from the MT embedded in her leg, and she still hadn't come to. She was dirty and singed, and flecks of blood stained her cheeks.

Iris brought over a bowl of soapy water and towels, then stood there a moment, looking at Aranea with concerned brows and a little wriggle of her nose. She wasn't too comfortable with this mysterious "friend" who had shown up in her home, with Noctis no less. But realizing that she wasn't coming to anytime soon, Iris left the water and towels and went back to tending to Noctis—a far better use of her time.

Ignis set to cleaning Aranea up. He would have preferred to let one of the others take care of her so that he could look for a cure for Noctis instead, but her condition seemed concerning. And he couldn't very well leave her to die at the hands of those well-meaning but unskilled companions of his. Not that he was a doctor or anything, but he had a far better understanding of first aid.

As he wiped a warm towel on Aranea's cheek, clearing away the blood and soot, Ignis noted in the back of his head that she had faint freckles. He traced carefully around her eyes, then her forehead, where he noticed a few cuts. Nothing too deep, but they would need some patching up.

He took a closer look at her right leg, which had deeper cuts and shrapnel embedded in the wounds. He considered her armor; he would need to remove it. He called Prompto over to help, who was only too happy to comply.

"Now Prompto, a bit of respect please," Ignis said, raising his eyebrows at him in warning.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. I would never be disrespectful to a lady!"

Not intentionally, Ignis thought. It wasn't that Prompto _intended_ anything; he was just so awkward around women, his filter went right out the window. Secretly, Ignis found it amusing, but he would never be caught cracking a smile at it.

Aranea's armor and form-fitting clothes proved to be quite difficult, and it took them a while to remove it all, especially around the injured leg. Ignis didn't want to accidentally dislodge something that could lead to further bleeding. Aranea wore a black sports bra and fitted shorts under her leather pants, which Ignis was relieved to see; she wasn't too exposed. Though something told him that she wasn't the kind to worry about her decency in such a situation either. Go in and get the job done, he imagined she would say.

After removing her armor, Prompto continued to stand nearby awkwardly, staring. Ignis noticed and ordered him away to keep an eye on Noctis, shaking his head, though on some level he couldn't blame him. If Ignis wasn't so good at compartmentalizing, he might have stared too. He began examining her leg instead.

There was quite a lot of shrapnel to get out, and it would require stitches. He prepped bandages, a needle, and a local anesthesia. He applied the anesthesia first, then grabbed some tweezers and set to work on pulling out the shrapnel. The first few came out easily enough, but there was one large piece that was especially stubborn, and Aranea groaned a little as he pulled on it. He decided that speed might be best, so he grabbed hold with the tweezers and yanked the piece out.

In one quick move, Aranea shot up with a scream and grabbed Ignis by the throat. She looked him in the eye, hair stuck to her face and confused and angry. Ignis was surprised by her strength, but he still had the good sense to put a handful of gauze on the now bleeding wound, even as she held him by the neck. Gladio and Prompto ran over to restrain Aranea, but by the time they got to her, Ignis had already taken a firm hold of her hands, pressing on pressure points to release her grip, and she was passing out again.

Prompto grabbed her shoulders as she fell backwards, laying her gently on the pillow.

"You may need to keep her pinned down while I do the rest of this," Ignis said calmly, as if nothing had happened—though he did feel just a little taken aback by Aranea's quickness and strong grip. Even with Gladio and Prompto keeping an eye on her, he worked a little faster.

After he was done bandaging her up, he finished cleaning off the rest of the blood and soot, and had the boys help change the blood-stained sheets underneath her. Although he still didn't know if he could trust her, she was a guest (and an injured one at that) who deserved a clean bed to sleep on.

—

"But are you sure there's nowhere else she can go?" Iris asked, determined to have her way.

"If she has truly defected from the Empire, then it's safest that she stays in hiding here while she recovers," Ignis responded. "It's not ideal. But we can't just leave her on the side of the road."

"That's not what I was saying we should do, but—"

"Iris, I know you don't like this," Gladio said. "We don't either. But she really helped us out back there."

"Yeah, but it's my house," Iris protested. "Don't I have a say about who gets to stay here?"

"It's a time of war. We've got to look out for each other, especially if someone's a potential ally," Gladio argued.

"She might even prove to have useful information," Ignis offered.

"Yeah, and come on Iris. Don't you want to, you know, be a good person? Help a sister out?" Prompto added.

"I am a good person!"

"Iris…" Gladio was losing his patience, but his voice remained gentle. "Arguing won't get us anywhere. Aranea will be our problem, not yours. Just let her stay here a few nights till Noct recovers and she gets back on her feet."

"Her injuries are bad, but a week of rest may suffice." Ignis didn't like this situation any more than Iris, but he felt an obligation to help Aranea. And, admittedly, he felt a certain satisfaction in nursing someone back to health.

"Fine. But you guys can't leave her alone with me. I wouldn't know what to do with her!" With that, Iris stormed off in the direction of her room, on the opposite side of the house. She stomped up the stairs, slamming her door to make sure everyone knew she wasn't about to be okay with this.

"That went well," said Prompto.

"She'll be fine. She's just not used to being around other women. They make her uncomfortable," Gladio explained.

"She's not entirely wrong in this case," Ignis said. "We ought to proceed with caution around Aranea. Especially you, Prompto."

"Hey, I've been a complete gent! Besides, I've only got eyes for Cindy. I mean, Aranea is… Well, let's just say she's only hiding good things under that armor. But it's just an innocent observation."

Ignis gave him a look. "Here's the plan," he said. "I will look through these curative books from Iris and find the strains that might help Noct. You two can source it, and I'll stay to take care of our so-called patients."

"Works for me," Gladio said. "And don't worry, I'll handle Iris."

Ignis certainly wasn't ready to deal with a teenage girl's lashing out, so he was happy to leave that to Gladio. He liked Iris a lot, but he felt like he could too easily say the wrong thing and set her off if she was in a mood. And her feelings for Noctis were a little complicated, considering he was engaged to Luna. Gladio seemed to treat this fairly lightly, even egging on Noctis to show some interest, but as far as Ignis was concerned, honesty was always the best way.

"So, what are we eating?" Prompto said, snapping Ignis out of it and reminding him that he hadn't even considered this.

"I'll throw something together quickly."

—

Iris snuck back into the room while the others ate downstairs and sat down next to Noctis, who had fallen back asleep. She watched him, feeling a little like she was invading his privacy, but ignoring the thought at the prospect of having an opportunity to be this close to him. She glanced over at the sleeping figure of their so-called "guest," and upon deciding she was fast asleep, Iris reached out a careful hand and brushed a few strands of hair from Noctis' face—just like she'd seen lovers do in movies.

She yanked her hand away as someone opened the bedroom door.

"Hey." It was Gladio.

Iris stood up, looking slightly guilty. "I was just checking on him."

"I know. Listen, sit down a sec."

"Okay… What's up?"

"Sorry about all this falling on you, Iris. We had no idea what else to do."

"It's totally fine."

"Yeah, but I wanted you to know that we appreciate it. I know Noct does too."

Iris looked at Noctis, blushing. "I'm just trying to be helpful."

"Yeah, I know," Gladio said. "But hey, just remember… He's engaged, right?"

"Uh, duh. Who cares anyway?" She knew she was doing a horrible job at playing coy.

"Okay, just checking in."

"I'm good, Gladdy. Let's just focus on getting Noct better. And getting our guest over there back on her feet."

"Don't like her much?" Gladio ruffled his sister's hair, and she swiped his hand away.

"I just don't know her. But if you think we can trust her…"

"Don't worry. Something tells me she's on our side."

Iris looked at Aranea again, still unsure about that. Or maybe it was just the fact that another woman was lying in the room with Noctis. He may have been engaged, but Lady Lunafreya had remained nothing more than a picture to her—which meant she wasn't quite as real, as far as Iris was concerned.

—

Everyone was settling in for the night in the packed house. Noctis and Aranea remained asleep in their beds, basking in the cozy warmth of painkillers. Prompto had shoved Noctis over so that he could squeeze onto the bed next to him—easy enough for the two thin-framed men—and Ignis and Gladio flipped for the remaining bed, which Ignis lost. He resigned himself to the horribly uncomfortable couch instead.

Ignis lay in the dark for a couple of hours, unable to get comfortable and feeling too warm. He listened to the sounds of breathing, snoring, and the crashing waves of the sea outside, and let his concerns overtake his mind. He was hoping Noctis' condition wouldn't worsen, and he wondered if he'd done a good enough job on Aranea's wounds—an infection would not be ideal.

He heard Aranea stir and saw her form shakily sit up in bed, highlighted by the moonlight coming in from the window. Ignis got up to check on her, grabbing his glasses from the nearby side table. He sat on the bed and watched her a moment as she rubbed her eyes and temples. She let out some small groans.

"Ugh… my head," she said.

"Does it hurt?"

She suddenly realized Ignis was sitting next to her, watching intently, and it startled her. Her eyes darted around the room like a scared animal, and her breathing quickened.

"You're fine, calm down," Ignis whispered. Her eyes settled back on him. "You were injured. We took you with us to a safe house."

It took Aranea a moment to process all of this. She made as if to shift out of the bed, but breathed in sharply as she moved her leg.

"You needed stitches on your leg, but worry not. I'm taking care of it."

"Everything hurts."

"You should get some rest."

"But what if they come…"

"You'll be safe here."

Aranea looked at Ignis with such innocent eyes, he almost couldn't believe she could be the cold-hearted dragoon of Niflheim. She seemed smaller than usual, sitting here confused and clearly in pain.

"You best lie back down." Ignis gently grabbed her shoulders and helped her back onto her pillow. She didn't resist, but she grabbed his hand as he lifted it away. She didn't say anything, just looked at him instead. It's like she didn't know if she wanted to thank him or ask him for something. Ignis deduced that maybe it was a bit of both, and she was in too much of a painkiller-induced stupor to know what to do.

"How about some water?" he offered. He grabbed a bottle he had left on the bedside table, opened it, and place it in her hand. She took a few sips and settled back down, closing her eyes. After deciding that she was okay, Ignis made himself as comfortable as he could on the couch, which only seemed to have grown lumpier. He sighed, knowing he would be feeling the pain in the morning.

He looked over at Aranea once more, fast asleep, and felt goosebumps rise on his skin despite the heat.

 **Next Chapter:** Things don't go so smoothly between Ignis and Aranea as she comes to… until they find a new way to communicate (and no, it's not through kissing!) Meanwhile, Iris forges an unexpected connection.


	2. A Noteworthy Conversation

_Author's note: I wasn't going to post this just yet, but hey, it's Valentine's Day—so here's a touch of romantic comedy elements._

 **PART TWO: A NOTEWORTHY CONVERSATION**

Ignis cooked up a hearty breakfast for everyone. Noctis had woken up that morning still unable to move his arms and legs, but with an appetite and clearly able to talk. Gladio carried him down from the bedroom so he wouldn't be left out, and they placed him in a cushioned chair with a footstool, which they took to calling his throne. Prompto and Ignis took turns feeding him, though Ignis paid far more attention to giving dignified portions and aiming for his mouth than Prompto.

"Well, this is strange," Noctis said.

"Do you feel a bit like a child?" Ignis asked.

"Yeah…"

"So what makes you feel otherwise on every other day that I'm taking care of you?"

"I don't get force-fed vegetables."

"Hmm." Ignis had littered the omelette with every vegetable he could find, much to Noctis' dismay.

After Noctis was finished eating, Ignis' mind went to Aranea, who had still been fast asleep when they woke up. He had checked on her, and her leg showed no signs of infection, so he decided it was best not to rouse her. But it had been a while now, and she might be hungry.

Ignis put together a tray of food and took it upstairs, impeccably arranging everything. He entered the bedroom quietly, and walked over to the far end by the window, where she still slept. He placed the tray on the bedside table. He was considering if he should wake her, but just as he was about to leave, she shifted her head a little and peered at him through squinted eyes.

"Hi," she said, groggily.

"Good morning. I have brought you some breakfast."

Aranea propped herself up on an elbow and glanced at the tray of food. It did look good—but she had to understand what was going on first.

"So… you patched up my leg?"

"I did my best. It seems to be on its way to recovery."

"It hurts."

"You were injured badly."

"I have to leave."

"Excuse me?"

Aranea raised an eyebrow at him. "I said, I have to leave. I can't stay here."

"I'm afraid that won't be an option right now. You're not well enough, and…"

"And what?"

"Well… We can't just have you leave and see where we're located."

"Excuse me?"

"We can't have anything leaking back to the Empire…"

Aranea rolled her eyes and threw her head back on the pillow. "So you still don't trust me."

"It's not that. But, with all due respect, you do work for the Empire, do you not?"

"I defected. That's why I helped you guys out."

"As much as I would like to give you the benefit of the doubt, we must still be cautious."

"Wow. Okay, great. I help you guys out, and this is the thanks I get. Look, just let me leave and I promise I won't tell anyone anything, okay?"

"I'm afraid that is not an option."

"So you're just going to keep me here like I'm in prison? No thank you." Aranea sat up and swung her legs over the bed, wincing in pain.

"I really don't think you should be doing that," Ignis warned, reaching out.

"Don't touch me. I'm fine."

"What exactly do you think you're going to go? You can't possibly walk out of here on that leg."

"Watch me."

Aranea pushed herself to her feet and tried to take a step, but immediately screamed out in pain, despite her best efforts not to. She started to fall over and Ignis caught her, sitting her back down on the bed. She looked at him with rage in her eyes and slapped him, hard, sending his glasses flying. Ignis breathed out slowly and sharply, trying to restrain his own temper. He got up, walked over to his glasses, and picked them up, methodically cleaning them with his shirt hem, his back to her.

"You can't force me to stay here," Aranea insisted.

Ignis turned around, putting on his glasses, and she gave him a challenging look. "I took care of your leg," he said. "I cleaned you up. And this is how you show your gratitude?"

Aranea maintained her glare. "Thank you for what, keeping me locked in here? I won't be your prisoner," she said.

"You're not."

"I am. Clearly."

Ignis' tone now turned icy. "I prefer the term, guest." He turned sharply to leave.

"Don't forget to take this tray with you," Aranea called after him.

"You're not hungry?"

"I don't eat prison food."

"Very well then." By this time, Ignis had gone incredibly stiff with anger. He walked over to the tray and picked it up mechanically, resisting the urge to fling it out the window, then left.

—

Ignis set the tray down loudly in the kitchen and went about finding various ingredients in the cupboards, moving with quick, jerky hands and a determination to make sure that even the bag of flour knew his wrath. Gladio eyed him from where he read at the kitchen table. Prompto sat next to Gladio, flipping through the curative books but looking confused, while Noctis dozed in his chair.

"You okay?" Gladio asked.

"I'm fine," Ignis replied curtly.

"You sure? Cause it doesn't look like it."

Noctis stirred and opened an eye. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Iggy's angry-baking," Gladio said.

"I'm not angry-baking."

"What's wrong Iggy?" said Prompto, looking up from his book, a hand rubbing his forehead.

"Let him stew," said Gladio. "He makes the best stuff when he angry-bakes."

"It's true," Noctis added. "Hey Iggy, I'm feeling something with chocolate."

"As I said, I am not angry baking. And we do not have chocolate. You'll eat what we have, and you'll be grateful." Ignis threw some flour, eggs, and milk into a bowl and began to furiously beat the mixture.

"Whoa, you sound really pissed," Noctis said with a little laugh.

"Spit it out, Iggy," said Gladio.

"There's nothing to spit out." Ignis paused a moment, but he couldn't help the oncoming rant. "But who does that woman think she is? We helped her out, and she shows nothing but contempt. I spent hours tending to her wound." He was beating the mixture even more furiously now. "All I said was that she'll have to stay here a few days."

"And?" Gladio knew there was more to it.

"And… She slapped me. Hard."

Gladio chuckled, shaking his head.

"It's not a laughing matter, Gladio."

"Sorry Iggy, it's just… She's getting to you."

"Rudeness gets to me. Is that so shocking?"

"Is it just me, or are you turning red?" Noctis called over.

"Red with rage, perhaps," Ignis answered.

"Guys, listen." Prompto jumped in. "She's a very independent kind of woman, right? So she's probably pretty pissed that we're keeping her here against her will. And she did help us. I can't blame her for lashing out…"

"Very insightful, Prompto," Ignis replied sardonically, though he was impressed by Prompto's level of empathy. "But we simply can't risk anything. Not when we're so close to setting sail for Altissia."

"I hate to say it, but Ignis is right," Noctis said. "After everything that happened in Insomnia, I don't want to take any risks. She has to stay here, at least until after we leave."

"Yeah, makes sense…" Prompto said. "But she's still angry, so… Maybe I can talk to her? Get her to understand?"

"Why not," Ignis said plainly. "She won't listen to reason. Maybe your methods will yield better results." He turned back to his batter and continued to beat it furiously.

—

Prompto entered the bedroom with a couple of pastries from Ignis' anger-fueled baking tucked into a napkin—he hadn't wanted Ignis to see he snuck them up. Aranea was still curled up in bed, her back to him, looking somewhat defeated.

"Uh… Aranea?"

The figure stirred and she looked over.

"Oh, it's you," she said. "What's up?"

"I just thought you might be hungry? I have some pastries. They're delicious—filled with custard."

There was no reply, but she waved a hand, gesturing him over. Prompto walked around the bed to face her, and sat on the edge cautiously.

"Relax," Aranea said. "I won't hurt you."

She sounded tired to Prompto. She held out a hand and he realized she was waiting for a pastry. He placed one in her palm and she ate it in two bites.

"Dammit, that's good," she said, mouth full.

"Yeah, Iggy's angry-baking sure is tasty."

"Did I manage to piss four-eyes off that bad?"

"Yeah… But you know, he meant well."

"Sure he did."

"No, really. He spent hours on your leg, and he cleaned you up real good… He even had us change the sheets under you when he was done."

"How nice."

"Look, I understand you don't want to be kept here." Prompto looked her in the eye with his most sincere expression. "But the decision is unanimous. We have to look out for Noctis. It's really nothing personal… But he did lose his dad when Insomnia fell. We all lost our home. We have to be more careful now."

Aranea looked at Prompto. She knew he was right. As much as she hated the situation, hated being bedridden and held captive, she knew she'd do the same in their place. But, of course, she couldn't admit that. So she just reached over and grabbed another pastry instead.

"I'll behave," she said, sighing.

"That's all we ask," Prompto replied, smiling warmly.

—

After exhausting half the books, Ignis made a list of possible curatives for Noctis' poison-infused paralysis. He gave the list to Gladio, who took Prompto along to set about procuring them. It was now evening, and Iris sat next to Noctis in his throne, happy to keep him company. Ignis made dinner, and let Iris take care of feeding Noctis. He could tell it was the closest thing to her fantasies coming true, and though he felt unsure about indulging it, she really was a great help.

Ignis' thoughts turned to Aranea once more. He didn't particularly want to confront her again, but he certainly wouldn't let a guest starve, no matter his pride, and her bandages probably needed changing. He reluctantly arranged a tray for her and took it upstairs. Prompto had spent a good amount of time talking to her before he left with Gladio, so he hoped she was feeling more compliant now.

When he entered, she was reading a book. It was one of Gladio's—Prompto must have given it to her.

"Oh, it's you again," she said, not looking up.

"I thought I would entice you with some prison food once more." Ignis' voice was saltier than he thought it would be; he was clearly still annoyed.

"Set it down on the table. I'll think about it."

She still wouldn't look at him, and now she was treating him like her servant. Ignis' mouth twitched. "As you wish, your highness," he replied, almost hissing. He placed the tray and stood next to her bed, waiting, purposely silent as he watched her. He could tell she was getting irritated now too and it pleased hm.

"You may leave," she ordered, still staring at the book.

"I should check on your wound."

"Oh… I'm sure it's fine."

"Perhaps. But there's still a risk of infection."

Aranea let out a long sigh and put the book down, finally looking at him and throwing daggers with her eyes. She leaned back into the headboard and pulled the bed sheet off with mock flourish, revealing her bare legs.

"By all means, you may proceed."

Ignis sat on the bed a touch too close, purposely invading her space. She wouldn't dare shift away though—that would be an admission of sorts. He went about lifting the bandages and checking the wound on her thigh.

"This needs to be dressed again." He grabbed the first aid kit nearby and set to work. All of a sudden he looked concentrated, brows furrowed and paying close attention to his task while taking care to be gentle. Aranea softened a little at his attentiveness—it's not something she was used to. She bit her lip whenever she was in pain, trying to act as nonchalant as she could. Of course this didn't hurt; it was practically child's play.

"All set," Ignis said, closing the first aid kit. His voice was softer now. "It's looking good."

"Excellent. I'll be out of here in no time."

"No doubt."

Ignis put away the kit and looked at the tray of food. "You should eat it before it gets cold. Unless you wish that I remove it."

"No. You can leave it."

"Very well."

As Ignis left, Aranea watched him walk to the door. She then touched the bandages on her leg, meticulously applied. She felt a little guilty, like she was being unfair to him. She reached over and opened the drawer of the bedside table, rummaging through it. She found a notepad and paper, and scribbled something quickly.

—

Later that night, Gladio and Prompto returned with the curatives Ignis had listed, but none would help Noctis' paralysis. After a couple of drinks to unwind, Gladio carried Noctis back up to bed. Ignis followed, and remembered the tray he left for Aranea, who was now asleep. He removed the tray, and carried it back down to the kitchen.

She had cleared the whole thing, practically licking the plate clean. He put the cutlery in the sink, and as he lifted the dinner plate, he saw a note underneath. He unfolded it.

"Sorry I slapped you," is all it said. Ignis smiled to himself and placed the folded note in his pant pocket.

—

The next morning, as Ignis made breakfast, he grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled a note. He left it under the plate, making sure it was visible just a touch.

When Aranea saw the corner of the note peaking out from underneath, she waited until the room was clear. She then unfolded it.

"Apology accepted. Friends? Or, at the very least, allies?" She grabbed a note and scribbled her response: "Friends. Definitely friends." She placed it under the plate and, later, smiled as Ignis retrieved the tray in silence.

—

The next note came with her lunch. Ignis had been busy poring through the rest of the curative books, but he made sure to write one when the guys weren't looking, slipping it under the plate.

Aranea was half expecting another note—even hoping for one—as Ignis dropped her lunch off. They were courteous to each other now in person, but formal. The notes, however, were beginning to feel like a secret between them. After he left, she checked under the plate and unfolded the paper.

"Friends. Good. Then, as a friend, I feel obliged to tell you that you had something in your teeth when I picked up your breakfast tray this morning. Just thought you would like to know."

Aranea laughed a little. Was this Ignis making a joke? She scribbled a reply, which Ignis stealthily read in the kitchen while Prompto invaded the cupboards for some snacks.

"Thank you for letting me know. I should tell you, you also had something on your face when you picked this tray up. Oh wait, never mind. It was just your face."

She had added a smiley face after. Ignis chuckled to himself, and added the note to his pocket.

"What was that?" Prompto asked.

"Nothing," Ignis replied. "Just a new recipe."

"Bet it's delicious!"

Ignis didn't reply to that, only smiling to himself.

—

The next note Aranea received was a lot longer than she expected, which pleased her—not that she would admit it.

"I'm afraid this is the only face I have, so it will have to do. But I'll have you know, this face has seen many interesting things. I could tell you of the time we defeated Marilith or ventured to the Disc of Cauthess, but the most memorable, perhaps, was a battle with a dragoon at Fort Vaullerey. She was highly skilled and very impressive. I particularly enjoyed her leather pants, though it left only so much to the imagination."

Aranea was a little in shock. Was Ignis seriously flirting with her? Moreover, was she really this flustered by it? They had never acknowledged their note trading in person, so she imagined their secret communication didn't blur into real life. Why not, she thought, and wrote her response.

—

Ignis unfolded the note in the kitchen, feeling a little apprehensive that he had gone too far.

"I have also seen things, and do recall watching a certain group of boys try to play in the big leagues at Fort Vaullerey. I'll admit, they all gave me a run for my money—but there was one that caught my attention, just a little. He was a highly skilled fighter and easy on the eyes. What was his name… Oh right."

Then, further down the page: "Gladio."

Ignis furrowed his brows. He turned the paper over, and noticed in smaller writing on the other side: "Just kidding. But I can totally see your expression right now!"

"What are you reading, Ignis?" Noctis called over from his so-called throne. Gladio and Prompto were out rummaging for the latest list of curatives, and Iris was busy cleaning up around the house.

"Just some notes on curatives." He folded the paper and pocketed it. He didn't want the guys finding out about his exchanges with Aranea. Although everyone felt more trusting of her now, he still knew what the reality was, and his lack of caution would be frowned upon—especially by him.

"Think Aranea's bored up there?" Noctis asked. "Maybe we should go upstairs soon. It's getting late."

"Of course."

—

Iris had been tidying the guest room in silence. She didn't know what to say to Aranea, who seemed equally unsure. When she got closer to Aranea's bed, she decided that small talk would be appropriate, at the very least.

"So…" Iris started. "You, uh, staying a while?"

"Eager to have me out of here already?" Aranea teased.

"No… I was just trying to make conversation. Jeez."

"Don't worry. As soon as I get the all-clear from your commander-in-chief, I'll be out of your hair."

"So… What do you think of Noct?" Iris was fishing, and Aranea could tell—and she couldn't resist playing a little game.

"Well, I gotta say… He may be young, but he looks like he could hold his own with a woman, no problem."

"What?" Iris' eyes grew to twice their size.

"I could totally see myself going for him," Aranea said, nodding thoughtfully, "if only he weren't engaged…"

"But if he weren't, what makes you think he'd want anything to do with you?" Iris had gone bright red. Aranea had been tempted to keep going, but now she felt bad for the girl, who couldn't be more than 15 or 16. Interacting with teenage girls was never her strong suit.

"Relax, darling," Aranea said, attempting her most soothing tone. "I'm just pulling your leg. I know how you feel about him."

Iris went bright red. "Is it that obvious? Also, that wasn't very nice of you!" But she couldn't quite stifle a giggle.

"Sorry… I don't have any sisters—or girlfriends for that matter—so I probably got a bit carried away. But listen, I'm sure if Noctis was a free man, so to speak, he'd be into you too."

"You think? I sometimes imagine he's not engaged, and he never met Luna. He'd probably think I'm too young for him though."

"Trust me, once you get past a certain age, it becomes less and less important."

"Why, how old are you?"

Aranea shook her head and winked. "That's not something you ask a woman past a certain age either."

Iris walked closer to the bed. "Can I sit?" she asked.

"Sure."

"So what do you think I should do? Just keep waiting and hoping?"

"Hoping for what?"

"I don't know…" Iris thought for a moment. "Maybe he won't like her when he sees her again? Or maybe she'll just… disappear?"

"Or maybe they'll simply go their separate ways one day."

"You think? Do you not believe in everlasting love?"

Aranea smirked. "I believe in self-love."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Do you want one?"

"I'm a bit of a lone wolf."

"But isn't that… kind of lonely?"

"Not if you don't dwell on it. I thought we were talking about you, Iris."

"Okay, fine. If I can't be with Noct, then how do I get over him?"

"Who says you have to? You feel the way you feel. Just be realistic about what you can get out of him. And, one day, you'll meet someone you'll love even more and it'll be like, Noctis who?"

Iris thought about this a moment. "Don't tell Gladdy, but I kinda wish I had an older sister right now. I could never talk to him about this."

"He's more aware than you realize."

"Yeah, but he probably just thinks it's 'cute.' Like he doesn't take it seriously at all."

Aranea rolled her eyes. "Boys, am I right?" She thought for a moment, then decided they had developed enough of a rapport for her to ask. "So what's up with four-eyes? Is he always this serious?"

"Ignis? Mostly. But he's actually a lot of fun once you get to know him."

"Is that so."

"I've seen him let loose when Noct demanded they have shots together. And when the Prince demands it, you obey!"

Just then, the door opened, and a grunting Ignis came in with Noctis draped over his back. Iris got up to help.

"It's quite alright, he's just heavier than he looks," Ignis said as he made his way to Noctis' bed. "Perhaps if Your Highness ate more vegetables than pastries…" Once Noctis was settled in his bed, Ignis walked over to the open window next to Aranea's bed to catch a breeze. She watched as he put his hands on the windowsill and looked outside. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead.

"Thanks, Ignis. Sorry you had to carry me up the stairs," Noctis called over.

"With pleasure, Highness. But next time, do wait for Gladio to return." He rubbed his back. "Shall we get some sleep?"

"Sure," Aranea responded. "I already can't wait for breakfast."

Ignis glanced at her, and their eyes met just for a moment as she gave him a knowing smile, then turned her back to him.

 **Next Chapter:** Aranea proves to be very helpful, and the group lets loose for a night with a house party.


	3. Blue Velvet

**PART THREE: BLUE VELVET**

Ignis tossed and turned in the dark. It seemed Gladio and Prompto wouldn't be back till morning, so he had taken Gladio's bed but couldn't drift off, despite the increased comfort over the couch. He eventually got up and silently walked over to the window, taking care not to wake Noctis or Aranea.

They had left the window open for air, and a gentle breeze came in from the sea. He took a few deep breaths, wondering what awaited them in Altissia. The last few weeks had been strange and unsettling and he had a bad feeling, but he tried to push it aside and remain in good spirits for Noctis' sake. Noctis had lost his father, after all, and they still didn't know how Luna was or if the wedding would even happen.

A movement caught the corner of Ignis' eye as Aranea rolled over in her bed, facing toward the window. He turned to look at her, dimly lit in the moonlight. He noticed her hair had fallen on her face, and she twitched in her sleep as it tickled her cheek. Ignis felt an urge to sweep it away, but his logic kicked in and he held back. He could acknowledge the fact that he found her attractive—anyone would—but he couldn't very well indulge in a gesture that implied a certain tenderness. He told himself the urge was just a reaction to being her caregiver.

After a moment, Aranea did the job herself and swept the hair out of her face in her sleep. Clearly she didn't need any man doing the hair sweeping for her. Ignis knew she would carry herself down the stairs if she could.

He went back to bed, proud at himself for withholding, until he thought of the notes they've been exchanging. He felt guilty for keeping this secret communication, especially from Noctis. Not that it was anyone's business, but it was a conflict of interest—though a thoroughly exhilarating one. He drifted off to sleep finally, while composing a note in his bed for breakfast.

—

When Ignis woke at dawn, Gladio and Prompto were back and sorting through their newest stash of curatives. The process was getting tedious and frustrating by now.

"Morning Iggy," Gladio said, noticing his gaze from the bed. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's quite all right. This is important."

Ignis got out of bed and went to assist Gladio and Prompto with the curatives. They tested one after another, half expecting failure at this point—and sure enough, nothing lifted Noctis' paralysis.

"Sorry guys," Noctis moaned. "For the record, I'm getting pretty tired of you having to hold me upright on the toilet, too."

"I can live with that," Gladio replied, "but I'm not sure Luna can."

Ignis noticed that Aranea was watching them from her bed, so he walked over to check on her. "Apologies for the delay on breakfast," he said. "I'll whip something up quickly. Is there anything else you need? How's your leg?"

"Seems better, but it's still tender. And no rush on breakfast—not that I don't look forward to seeing what you've whipped up this time."

Ignis felt his cheeks go hot as he thought of the notes.

"One thing though," Aranea added. "I'd like to get out of this room already. Think you could help me downstairs? I can probably manage on one leg."

"Of course. I'll see if Iris can get you some spare clothes"

—

Aranea sat at the breakfast table with Gladio and Prompto, while Iris sat beside Noctis on his "throne," ready to feed him. After their talk last night, Aranea marveled at the young girl's unwavering devotion. She shifted in her chair, careful to not move her leg the wrong way. When she had gotten out of bed, she realized the discomfort was worse than she thought and couldn't make it across the room on one foot, even as she held onto Ignis' shoulder. She tried to hide her pain, but he noticed and swept her up in one clean move. She would normally feel strange about this, like a prize being carried by a man—but somehow this didn't feel possessive. No, he was simply looking out for her.

He carried her downstairs carefully, her arms wrapped around his neck. It was the closest she'd been to him, and, as she caught his scent, she cursed herself for feeling a nervous excitement in her stomach, like she imagined Iris did whenever Noctis casually touched her.

It's not that she didn't find Ignis attractive; it was more that she had no idea what to make of him. Usually, she would see a man she favored, decide what she wanted, and blatantly go after it. If he said no for any reason (which was rare), she would have no hard feelings and move on easily. If it was a yes, it was to the point and simple, and usually short-lived. No calls, no texts, no drama.

But with Ignis, she started noticing details that she never normally would. His concentrated look as he bandaged her leg, the green of his eyes, even the little freckles on his face. When did she ever care about some damn freckles before?

"Aranea?"

"What?" Aranea had no idea someone had been talking to her.

"I was asking you what your plans were," Noctis said, "when you leave here. What will you do?"

"I, uh… I guess I'm not sure yet. Probably regroup with Biggs and Wedge, my two right-hand men. They also defected."

"Well, you know we'll always be happy to get your help, if we run into you. We really appreciate all you've done. And sorry about, you know, keeping you here…"

"All good, my liege. I get it." Aranea shifted uncomfortably in her outfit. Iris's black top and skirt were a little tight on her—she wasn't a teenager anymore, after all.

"Breakfast is served," Ignis interrupted, putting plates down.

Aranea ate without checking under her plate until everyone had finished and were dispersing. She then lifted her plate a touch and, sure enough, there was the note. She swiftly removed it and tucked in into her skirt's band.

"Finished?" Ignis was reaching for her plate.

"Sure am, four eyes."

—

Aranea and Ignis remained at the dining table while everyone else had gone outside, sitting at opposite ends, reading and re-reading through the curative books. Prompto had gone around to the locals to source more options and returned triumphant with a couple of heavy, leather-bound new tomes.

When the coast was clear and Ignis was immersed in a book, Aranea unfolded her note under the table.

"It is true that I shall never be the specimen that Gladio is. And, admittedly, I do peg him as your usual type. But there is one thing I have figured out about you, Aranea Highwind: You are full of surprises. And so am I. Believe it or not, I can bench press Gladio."

Aranea laughed quietly. She grabbed her pen and paper and wrote a note under the table. She tucked it into the book she had just finished.

"Hey Ignis," she called over. "Did you want to make sure I didn't miss anything in this one?"

"I trust your judgment, but why not."

So we're trusting each other now, she thought, as she slid the book across the table to him. He opened the book and the note slid out. He resisted the urge to glance at her, but she saw the corners of his mouth curl up ever so slightly.

He placed it among a pile of notes, reading it discreetly. "Bench press Gladio? I'll believe it when I see it! I do like to think I have a surprise or two up my sleeve. Is this an invitation to show you? Not sure you can handle it."

He sent a note back inside another book that traveled across the table, saying simply this: "Please. Do."

Aranea put the note down and looked up. For the first time in a while, they made eye contact and exciting uncertainty filled the space between them. He looked at her sternly, challenging her to do something. She looked back, steeling her eyes as if she was ready to blow his mind, but her heart beat nervously. He had put the ball in her court.

Just then Prompto came running back into the kitchen, much to Aranea's relief.

"Hey guys, I got a few more books and stuff," he announced triumphantly. He plunked them in the middle of the table, breaking the tension—that precious, oblivious young man. He bounced off to join the others, who had moved outside to the porch.

Ignis and Aranea sighed, leaning forward and grabbing more books. The moment was definitely gone.

—

After another hour, Ignis shut his book and broke the silence.

"Shall we take a break?" he asked.

"Yes, please." Aranea moved this way and that, stretching her back. "Actually, I could really use some fresh air. I hate to ask, but…"

"That's a wonderful idea. Let's head outside a moment. It might help clear our minds."

Ignis walked over to Aranea and she let out a small awkward laugh as he picked her up. He carried her outside, and the rest of the group eyed them.

"Isn't the man supposed to carry the bride into the house, not out?" Gladio quipped.

"I could say the same to you, carrying Noctis around all day," Ignis remarked.

"I do make a beautiful bride," Noctis said in a soft, dainty voice, "but I think I'll leave that honor to Luna. Assuming the wedding is still happening…"

"Let us hope it does," Ignis replied, noticing Noctis' sad eyes at the thought of a cancellation. "Aranea and I are just taking a short break. We'll be over there by the lighthouse."

Ignis carried Aranea up the hill, trying to channel Gladio's endurance; he didn't want her thinking he was weak. They reached the lighthouse and he sat her on a stack of crates at the back of the structure, overlooking the sea.

"It's so beautiful here, I didn't even realize," Aranea said, looking at the sunset. "Feels good to be free from my prison."

"Is that how you still see it? A prison?"

"Well, even if you weren't determined to keep me here until you all leave for Altissia, I've been confined to a bed all the same."

"Rest is pertinent to recovery," Ignis stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah… But I'm not exactly known for my patience."

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Aranea spoke again. "This view's very romantic. It's a bit wasted on us, isn't it?"

Ignis thought for a moment, but said nothing. Was it wasted?

"I owe you a note," she continued. This was the first time they had verbally acknowledged their little secret. "Something surprising about me…" Aranea paused a moment, thinking. "I'm actually really scared."

Ignis looked at her, uncertain and waiting for her to continue.

"And I… kind of like being in this prison. It feels safe here. Yeah, I talk a big game—but you don't just defect from the Empire and walk away from it scot-free. For all I know, you guys are saving my ass by keeping me hidden away here. So, thank you.."

Ignis was indeed surprised. This was not what he expected from her. A come-on, maybe. A dirty joke, certainly. But an admission of fear? Not from the great Aranea Highwind.

"You're welcome," he said at last. "But was it really necessary to slap me then?"

Aranea laughed. "Are you still upset about that?"

"You have a very firm hand."

"Yeah, well, you have a very strong jaw. Don't think I didn't learn my lesson. And admit it… You liked it."

They exchanged looks, and Ignis wondered if this was the moment he was supposed to say something witty and flirtatious, or simply reach out and gently move her wind-swept hair out of her face like he wanted to.

Before he could make up his mind, Aranea's eyes suddenly darted to the sea and she furrowed her brows. She watched a bird swoop down and into the water, then back up with its dinner.

"Wait a minute…" she said. "Take me back to the books."

"What?"

"Just do it."

Ignis quickly picked her up and they made their way back down. He ignored the banter from the guys as he entered the house, and sat her in her chair. She grabbed a blue-covered book on alternative curatives and flipped through it, finding a passage.

"Does Noctis have any marks on his back from the poison?"

"Yes, he had some red splotches, but it's nothing unusual for poison."

"But does it look like this?"

Aranea flipped a page to a diagram of marks that resembled something like an awkwardly drawn infinity symbol—or a fish.

"Yes, I believe that's what it looks like," Ignis said thoughtfully.

"That's it then! The problem is, they don't bottle his curative!" Aranea exclaimed, slamming her palm on the table. "He needs to be taken to a rare hot spring in the volcano of Ravatogh. It's very tricky to approach and it's a rarely used poison, that's why they don't bottle it. Plus he has to be immersed in it for several hours, till the poison wears off. That would explain why nothing else worked."

Ignis read the pages rapidly, and agreed that it seemed to check out.

"So we must take him there. I'll go tell the others."

—

Noctis was happy to hear about this potential cure, but less happy at the prospect of being carried up a volcano. He negotiated that they not leave until morning, considering the sun was already going down. He also insisted they make a night out of it, and crack open some bottles of wine they found stored in the house's cellar. Ignis wasn't sure if this was a great idea, considering the early start the next day, but he was outnumbered.

Aranea insisted she couldn't breathe any longer in Iris' clothing, and Iris remembered she had a dress that might fit better, though it was a little fancy for a house party. Her solution was that they should all dress up for the occasion. Iris ordered Ignis to carry Aranea to her bedroom so that they could change, and then sent him off to make sure the rest of the guys suited up too. Iris was so excited at this fancy impromptu wine party, no one fought it. She'd had enough heartache recently.

Aranea sat on Iris' bed, watching the younger girl excitedly comb through her wardrobe. She pulled out a cute red dress for herself, asking if Aranea though it was too childish with the frills on the shoulder.

"Perhaps something a little more sleek, if you want Noctis to see you as more grown up," Aranea teased. Iris turned as red as her dress.

"It's not for him!" she protested. "But… maybe you're right. How about this black one?"

It was fitted and made of lace, with a flattering cut that would help emphasize any curves on Iris's slim frame. Aranea nodded in approval.

"I'm afraid I only have one choice for you," Iris said as she pulled out a dress from the back of the wardrobe. "It actually used to be my mother's. I'll probably grow into it one day… if you know what I mean." She gestured at her chest, and Aranea nodded knowingly. "You better be really careful with it."

"I promise, I'll treat it with the greatest of care," Aranea replied, noting in the back of her head that she was talking a bit like Ignis.

The dress was a simple but beautiful blue velvet piece, floor length with a plunging V-neckline. Iris helped Aranea peel the tight clothes off, and Aranea could feel the girl's eyes on her far more developed figure. It was a mix of fascination and jealousy and apprehension.

Aranea slipped the velvet dress on. It fit effortlessly, easily draping over her curves and—most importantly—allowing her to breathe. Iris then applied a touch of makeup on them both, and gave Aranea's loose hair a brush.

There was a knock on the door, and Ignis asked if they were decent. The women beckoned him in and Iris skipped toward him, doing a little spin.

"You look lovely, Iris," Ignis said, as she spun past him and slowed down at the top of the stairs, making sure she ascended like a proper young woman, not a skipping child. Aranea could hear Gladio, Prompto, and Noctis complimenting her as she walked down.

Aranea looked at Ignis as he approached her, and noted that, even though he usually dressed sharply, he was all the more handsome in formal attire. He had a black waistcoat buttoned over a crisp white shirt, leaving the top button of his shirt undone.

Ignis, on the other hand, agonized internally as to how he could possibly carry Aranea downstairs without losing his composure. She looked stunning in the long blue dress, regal like a queen, and he had to constantly fight the urge for his eyes to be drawn to her plunging neckline, which she filled out so beautifully.

He cleared his throat, deciding that formality was the best way to go.

"May I?" he asked, as he gestured to pick her up.

"Thought you'd never ask, four eyes. I don't want to miss the party."

Ignis slid his arm under her legs and placed the other around her back, lifting her up. Aranea wrapped her arms around his neck and studied the freckles on his cheeks, another on his chin, a couple on his forehead.

He turned to look at her and she kept his gaze. It became a challenge; who would break the stare, make the first move? Then Ignis took a step forward and tripped a little on the hem of the blue dress.

"I better be more careful," he said, and kept his eyes forward, descending the stairs mechanically. He placed Aranea on a couch, which the others had pulled together along with Noctis' chair, a coffee table, and some cushions. A couple bottles of wine were already open on the table, and snacks had been laid out. Not quite satisfied, Ignis insisted on whipping together some dips and other more sophisticated party foods.

As he brought his creations to the coffee table, he noticed some hard liquor had also been procured (Prompto apparently had his ways) and was being poured out into shot glasses.

"I think I shall pass," Ignis said. "And so should the rest of you, to be frank. We have an early morning."

"Ah, come on Ignis," Noctis replied. "Let's have a bit of fun. In fact, I command it!"

"I hate when you do that, using your royal powers."

"Just looking out for my small kingdom here. Iris, would you do the honors for me?"

Iris picked up a shot glass. "Gladdy, can I have one too?" she asked.

"Absolutely not. You're 15."

"Ah, come on! It's not like I've never had a drink before. I've been taking sips of Noct's wine all evening."

"Don't think I haven't noticed," Gladio warned.

"Come on Gladio," Aranea interjected. "It's just one shot. Something tells me this girl can handle her liquor."

"Yeah, she can't be the only one not having a shot!" Prompto added.

Gladio raised his hands in submission, shaking his head with disapproval, but smiling just a little. He couldn't decide if he was being the best or the worst big brother.

They all grabbed a shot glass (Iris holding Noctis') and raised their hands.

"To new allies," Aranea declared.

"To new adventures," Prompto added.

"To being able to move again and take a dump in peace. Well, almost!" Noctis laughed.

They downed their shots.

 **Next Chapter:** Things heat up at the party with some drinking games.


	4. It Takes Ten Seconds

_Author's Note: Fair warning, aside from one "moment," not much is happening in this chapter. Just fluff and good times! But I really wanted to see what happens when the gang lets loose a little :)_

 **PART FOUR: IT TAKES TEN SECONDS**

His head was definitely buzzing, but Ignis felt surprisingly at ease as he sat in one corner of the couch, despite his initial misgivings about drinking. Looking around at everyone in such good spirits, he couldn't help but let his own composure slip as he poured another glass of wine.

Despite his paralysis, Noctis seemed happier than Ignis had seen him since the fall of Insomnia. Iris was in heaven, a little drunk from both the alcohol and hanging around Noctis so freely, who politely indulged her with the odd wink and smile. Gladio even insisted he and Iris take a "sibling shot" together—apparently his way of accepting that she wasn't a child anymore. Prompto jubilantly played the role of MC, changing music tracks on the speakers in between stealing less-than-subtle glances at Aranea.

And Aranea, she lounged on the couch without a care in the world, arms draped out and legs folded neatly so that her wound wasn't compromised. Her blue velvet dress draped around her and hung over the couch like a waterfall. Her cheeks were flushed, and her silver hair framed her face, just a little messy. Whenever Ignis caught himself looking at her a bit too much, feeling a little more warmth with each glance, he told himself it was just the alcohol.

But as she talked and laughed and sang along to the music, throwing her head back with such abandon, he imagined leaning over and kissing her exposed neck, then scooping her under him and running his hands over that velvet dress, feeling her body underneath his.

Prompto's voice took him back to reality: "Hey guys, let's place a game!"

"Yes, that would be so fun!" Iris said, jumping up. "What should we play?"

"How about a good ol' classic, like truth or dare?" Prompto proposed.

Gladio huffed. "What could I possibly learn about you dorks that I don't already know? And I'm not kissing anybody here. Well, unless it's Lady A—by process of elimination, of course."

"How flattering," Aranea said.

"I'm sure you guys don't know everything about me," Prompto said. "And besides, what makes you think that you're the one who gets to kiss Aranea?"

"Don't I get a say in this?" Aranea interjected.

"Maybe Aranea would rather kiss a King," Noctis offered.

"Am I not even here?" Aranea looked around, feigning shock.

"Now, now, children," Ignis interjected. "A little respect for the lady please."

Aranea gave him a smirking smile; she was perfectly capable of defending her own honor, but enjoyed the chivalry just a little bit.

"We shall play then," Noctis declared in a kingly tone. "Prompto, you go first. Truth or dare?"

"Dare! Make it a good one, Noct."

"Excellent. I shall decree you this: You must kiss someone in this room, but it must be someone willing to kiss you back."

"Ah, man, come on. Ease me in!" Prompto looked around at his options. He certainly couldn't ask Iris without immediately getting a black eye from a tipsy Gladio, and he wasn't too sure if he was ready to lock lips with the guys. As for Aranea, he sure didn't have a chance there.

Prompto was just about to get the courage to approach Gladio when he noticed a finger beckoning him over. He couldn't believe it—it was Aranea. Prompto blushed as he moved closer to her. Ignis watched this unfold, more amused than anything. Aranea was up to something; she had a sneaky look on her face that he was beginning to recognize.

As Prompto neared Aranea's face, she turned her cheek to him and pointed to it. Though confused, he kissed her there. She then cupped his face with her hands and kissed his cheek too.

"Wait, that's not a real kiss!" Noctis objected.

"But Your Highness, you didn't specify where or for how long—only that it must be someone willing to kiss him back."

Aranea had him there. Noctis chuckled and ordered Prompto back to his seat. "You've had your chance," he said.

"Yeah, well, you screwed up the instructions! No wonder Iggy's actually the one in charge. But I'll take it. Seriously, Aranea, that was like the best two seconds of my life."

Everyone laughed as Prompto turned bright red. Only he was capable of being flustered by a simple kiss on the cheek. They continued to make their way around the circle, with Gladio performing a strip dance for the group that had Iris in stitches, and Iris offering a relatively tame truth (they still had the good sense to go easy on the young girl).

As Noctis sat there, watching his friends, he noticed Ignis wasn't quite himself—he had been a little off for days, in fact. At first, Noctis thought it was concern over his paralysis, but now, after several glasses of wine, he saw the subtler hints. Ignis and Aranea's body language looked awfully suspicious, with limbs slowly moving closer and closer on the couch, until their legs were touching. Ignis would look at her a few seconds too long, or Aranea would tilt her head in a coy way as she watched him talk.

He had never seen Ignis like this. Noctis remembered he had a serious girlfriend in high school, but Ignis kept that part of his life very much to himself. When they broke up, Noctis could tell that he was upset, but any attempts at talking about it were immediately snuffed out. Since then, Ignis largely avoided the topic of his love life, saying that his only interest lay in his duty to the Prince and that Noctis should concern himself about his own betrothal first and foremost.

But Noctis knew better. They had been side by side since they were boys; Ignis couldn't hide a thing from him.

"Your turn! Noct!"

"Huh?" He turned his head slightly toward Iris, the little it could move.

"Truth or dare?" she asked him.

"Uh… I guess truth, considering I can't move."

"Great," Aranea responded. "I have a question for you: If you weren't marrying Lady Lunafreya, and you had to marry one of your faithful menfolk here, who would it be?"

Aranea gave him a mischievous smile. She had a raw sense of humor, but Noctis found its unabashed nature charming.

"Hmm…" Noctis thought about it a moment. "Well, Gladio would wear the pants around the house way too much, so I can't pick him. And Prompto, well, I'm just not convinced he'd be the most skilled lover."

"Hey! I'd be plenty skilled!" Prompto objected.

"Now Ignis…" Noctis looked at Aranea, ready to turn her game around. "He's a real contender. I mean, he's tall, handsome, and a great cook, it goes without saying. But he's also unlike any other man you've ever met—more loyal and wise, and he's always there to take care of you. Oh, and he wears a size 12 shoe… Anyone would be crazy not to pick him."

Aranea casually took a sip of her wine glass as she kept his eye contact, but Noctis could see the slight flush on her cheeks. His lips curled into a smile and he winked at her. She choked on her drink a little.

"That was very kind of you, Highness," Ignis said happily, clearly touched. He downed his drink and raised himself off the couch, wrapping his long arms around Noctis for an awkward hug that the King quite literally couldn't move to reciprocate, and planted a kiss on Noctis' head. Everyone let out aw's at this sloppy show of public affection that was so unlike Ignis.

"Okay Drunk Iggy, your turn," Noctis said tenderly as Ignis fell back into his seat.

"Oh no, I'm in no state to play."

"Come on, Ignis" Iris objected. "Don't be a party pooper!"

"Well, I'm not one for pooping parties…" Ignis was definitely feeling that last drink. "Truth."

"I got one," Prompto said. "Who would you screw, marry, or kill in this room?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Rules are rules, man! You gotta answer."

Ignis rolled his eyes.

"I didn't make the rules!"

"I'm pretty certain you did, Prompto." Ignis refilled his glass of wine. "All right then. Screw… I suppose most would have a hard time resisting that manly physique of Gladio." Gladio raised his glass in response and twitched the muscles on his chest. "Though I imagine he can be quite gentle when he wants to be."

"I sure can," Gladio said in his softest, most romantic voice.

"Kill, well that's easy," Ignis said, glaring at Prompto. "For asking this question in the first place."

"What's with all the hate," Prompto said, shaking his head with mock remorse.

"And marry…" Ignis continued. "I would hate to come between Noct's impending nuptials to Lunafreya—she'd make a far more beautiful bride than I. So I'm inclined to choose this fair lady over here."

He gestured to Aranea, who seemed a little surprised. "Funny, I usually get pegged as the 'screw' kind," she laughed awkwardly.

"Any man would be an utter fool to relegate you to just one night, when they could have a lifetime."

"Who said I'd agree to a lifetime? Maybe I like being the screw."

Prompto and Gladio let out whoops at this, and Iris covered her face in embarrassment, giggling. Ignis wasn't sure he believed her.

"Your turn, Aranea," Noctis spoke up, quieting the laughter.

"Dare. Always, pretty boy."

"Okay, then." Noctis thought a moment as she silently challenged him to do his worst. "I think it's time to bring that kiss back. But this time, I'll be specific. It has to be on the lips. And you have to hold it till I count to 10. I will pick a number between one and a hundred. Closest guess wins. I'll whisper the number to Iris for confirmation—I'm assuming you're sitting this out, Iris?"

Iris turned bright red. "I've never had a kiss before, so yeah, I'm sitting it out!"

Aranea raised her glass. "Sounds fair, Highness."

"Okay, Iris. The number is…"

Noctis glanced at Ignis, and he knew they were on the same page. They had a secret system for these games: they always had a rotating number they agreed on. It was their way of getting what they wanted in the guise of democracy within the group. This week, it was 36. If Ignis said this number, it would be a subtle confirmation to Noctis. He whispered the number in Iris' ear.

"Okay my peasants, give me your numbers!"

Gladio and Prompto shouted out their choices. When it came around to Ignis, he hesitated. If he were sober, he would not take the bait. But as he looked at Aranea and her half-shut eyelids, he wanted to plant kisses not just on her lips but all over her velvet-clad body.

"36," Ignis said. Noctis gave him a slight nod back, and Iris jumped up with excitement.

"Yes! That's exactly right!" she declared. "Kiss! KISSSS!"

Ignis turned toward Aranea, but he suddenly felt strange—guilty even—for tricking a kiss out of her. It didn't seem right to him. "You don't actually have to," he said.

"I'm sorry, but a dare's a dare," she said as she shifted to him on the couch and placed her hands around his neck, pulling his face to her own. Her lips touched his softly, and he heard Noctis start counting to ten faintly, as everything blurred around him. (One, two…) He closed his eyes and felt only her softness, her scent, her taste. (… five, six…) He felt something he couldn't recall ever feeling before: a sense of falling with complete abandon. (… eight, nine…) He wanted to melt into her, make it impossible to tell where his atoms ended and hers began.

Ten. Ten! TEN!

Aranea released him, and Ignis could swear it seemed reluctant. She looked flushed. He felt his cheeks burning hot too, glasses fogged. He remembered where he was and, realizing his audience, raised his glass in flourished praise of the kiss. He laughed the moment off, taking a sip and once again reminding himself that he was merely drunk. But he caught Noctis looking at him with a subtle smile and Ignis couldn't help but smile back.

"And on that note, who's up for a dance?" Prompto asked, pulling Iris off the floor and cranking up the music.

The drinks kept flowing, and even Gladio started dancing after a while. Aranea tried to join as much as her injured leg would allow her, but she often perched on Noctis' armchair instead, the two of them bobbing heads together thanks to their limited mobility.

"Well played, Your Highness," she said.

"Just doing my job."

Aranea's world was now spinning a bit too much and she felt hot. She called over to Ignis, who was attempting some half-hearted cleanup of dip bowls in the kitchen, to help her outside a moment. He dropped the bowls in the sink and zigzagged over.

—

Ignis stumbled out to the porch with Aranea half draped over his shoulder and hopping on one leg. He felt concern in some corner of his mind that her stitches might come undone, but she was also healing well. He helped her sit on the porch steps before joining her.

"I'm starting to feel like you're my crutch," she said, laughing slightly. "I'm not used to needing one."

"It's only temporary," Ignis assured her.

"I mean this physically and metapho-phopho-rically. Dammit, am I slurring?"

"You're as eloquent as ever."

"Now you're just being facetious." She punched him half-heartedly in the shoulder.

"Me? Never."

They sat in silence for a moment. Aranea looked up at the sky, noticing the stars. They must truly be in the middle of nowhere for the stars to be this bright—far from the pollution of city lights. Ignis raised his eyes too and struggled to focus on the sky. He began to wonder: What was going on here exactly? Why was he sitting on a porch, in a small rickety house, practically at the edge of world, with Aranea Highwind of all people—and feeling like he'd prefer to never go to Altissia and stay here instead? He silently berated himself for indulging these thoughts.

"I want to walk a bit," Aranea announced. She began to rise.

"Aranea, you know you shouldn't—"

But before he could stop her, she was up on her good leg—and then swaying off balance and slipping down the stairs. Ignis shot up, trying to grab her, break her fall, anything. She twisted in the air, knocking him over, and they both fell. Ignis landed painfully on the stairs, though the impact of this was quickly dulled by the wine, and Aranea finished next to him, face down and laughing gleefully at their mutual failure. Somehow, Ignis had managed to grab only Aranea's behind, and he still held a firm hand on her blue velvet-covered derriere.

"Are you okay?" he asked, rather concerned despite her laughter. She raised her eyes to him suggestively.

"Getting a little hands-on now, are we?" she teased as she wiggled her hips under his still-clutching hand. Ignis suddenly realized what he was holding onto and lifted his hand swiftly, feeling embarrassed.

"It's okay," Aranea said, looking up at him from under her bangs. "You can touch. I mean, we've already gotten to first base."

"That hardly counted." Ignis sat up straighter and planted his hands firmly on his thighs. "And it was just a game."

"Just a game?" She arched her back and stuck her behind into the air, gently swaying it side to side. "You don't like what you see?"

"That's not it. At all."

"Then what is it, Iggy?" She said his nickname like she was using it ironically.

"I would not treat a lady this way. Especially when she's been drinking."

"Stop calling me that. I'm no lady."

"With all due respect, I beg to differ."

"You might be the first guy I've ever met who isn't jumping at this offer. Especially when I've been drinking." She swayed her hips toward him till they bumped his leg, then moved them in suggestive little circles. His eyes moved to her rounded figure against his will, and his mouth opened ever so slightly.

"Come on, four eyes. Let's have a little fun."

But Ignis only composed himself again. This was all too overwhelming for him; the wine, the kiss, the guilt, the confusion of what exactly was happening between them. "I appreciate the offer, but we've already had plenty of fun tonight. I assure you, my world is spinning."

Aranea's hips slumped down and she loudly blew air out of her mouth. "Fine, I get it. I'm not your type. Probably too crass or something."

Ignis wanted to contradict that, but he couldn't get the words out—he was once again too distracted by her curves, her cleavage, her softly lit face.

"Anyway, I'm all aired out," Aranea continued. "Let's go back inside."

"In a moment."

"Why, what's the hold up?"

Ignis awkwardly shifted, hands still stuck to his thighs. "I'm not quite… decent," he admitted.

Aranea pushed herself up and looked at his lap. Sure enough, he needed a moment; apparently her blue velvet-covered derriere was doing the trick after all. She let out a laugh and pulled herself up next to Ignis, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Oops… Maybe I'm a 'screw' kinda girl after all?"

He turned toward her, faces just inches away, and he felt a moment of clarity.

"Maybe. But I'm not."

And with that, he winked and stood up.

 **Next Chapter:** Ignis and Aranea get some real alone time.


	5. One Step at a Time

_Author's Note: Moooooore fluff! I promise, it'll get steamier. It's just such a slow burn. I also can't help but love writing a moment of looking at Ignis from Aranea's eyes, because she's basically all of us._

 **PART FIVE: ONE STEP AT A TIME**

Ignis splashed cold water on his face, trying to shake off at least some of the dizzying effects of the wine. It wasn't working as well as he'd hope.

"Absolutely not," he said to Noctis, who was propped up on the toilet. Getting him into the bathroom while both of them were drunk (and Noctis mostly paralyzed) was some feat, but Gladio had become too incapacitated to handle the situation himself. "There is no way I'm not coming with you," Ignis continued.

"But it makes sense," Noctis insisted. "Who's going to stay with Aranea then?"

"Iris can handle it."

"Iris is going to carry Aranea up and down the stairs and dress her wounds? She can barely lift Talcott or cut a chicken breast without getting squeamish."

"Then leave Prompto behind, but I'm coming. It might be dangerous."

"Prompto's hardly a better option than Iris, and he'd be pretty much useless as soon as he's within 10 feet of her."

Ignis knew Noctis was right. Logically speaking, it made most sense for him to stay behind while the rest of the team took Noctis to the hot springs hidden within Ravatogh to (hopefully) cure his paralysis once and for all. But he didn't like the thought of being separated from the Prince one bit.

"You know I'm right," Noctis continued. "And besides, you two seem to be getting along swimmingly."

"Excuse me?"

"That was one steamy kiss during truth or dare."

"It was a silly game."

"And you sure played along."

Ignis glared at Noctis. He didn't feel comfortable verbalizing these things. He found the entire situation confusing enough, and talking about it wasn't going to help. Not to mention he had decided long ago to keep his personal life private—it was his last attempt at keeping a bit of professionalism between them, since they had blurred that boundary in every other respect over the years.

"Noct, if you're attempting to play some sort of matchmaker here, I assure you, your efforts are in vain."

"So there's nothing going on between you two?"

"Nothing beyond some silly wine-induced games."

"What about the notes?"

Ignis froze over the sink. "The notes…"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure you were sober then. I may be paralyzed, but I can still see, you know."

Ignis tried to run through excuses in his head, but he couldn't come up with anything that didn't betray a deeper feeling that he couldn't admit to yet.

"It's okay, Ignis. You're allowed to have some fun."

"Perhaps, if things were different. But this is a time of war. And she's a soldier of Niflheim…" The gravity of his actions suddenly hit Ignis hard. "Noct, I'm so sorry. It was extremely irresponsible of me."

"But she defected. I don't have a problem with you being interested—"

"We don't know that. We don't truly know her plans."

"Maybe not, but I know one thing for sure: you're never wrong. Your instincts about people are always spot on, so if you trust her for some reason, then she must be on our side."

Ignis thought about this for a moment. As much as logic told him that he shouldn't fully trust Aranea, he also couldn't imagine her betraying them anymore. "Even if she is truly an ally, why are you insisting on… her and I?"

"Because it's time you looked after your own interests for a change. It's always been about my wedding, my ascension to the throne, my responsibilities."

"So you wish to deflect me." Ignis' voice sounded genuinely hurt at the thought of this.

"No, 'course not, Iggy. But you do have to let me live my own life a bit. And you have to start finding other things to live for too."

"Let's get you on that throne before we start worrying about my life."

"But I am worried, Iggy."

"Noct—"

"I'm not saying you should drop everything. I'm just saying you can take a day off from me. Gladio, Prompto, and Iris will be able to handle this just fine."

Of course Ignis had considered how his role would change once Luna became a permanent fixture in Noctis' life, but he wasn't ready to have these conversations yet. Then, on the other hand, the thought of an entire day alone with Aranea…

"Fine," he said hesitantly.

"Really?"

"Yes. I will stay behind. But I want regular updates on your progress, or I swear I will ride a chocobo all the way to Ravatogh to check on you."

"Deal. Now, would you mind pulling my pants back up so we can get back to the party?"

"And here you are, saying you don't need me anymore."

—

After another hour, Gladio was passed out on the floor. Noctis half-heartedly nodded along to music while sitting on his throne, his eyes resisting gravity. Iris and Prompto were curled up on the couch, both looking rather pale. Ignis placed a bucket near them and glasses of water on the coffee table, thinking they will probably need it soon. Even drunk, he still had his good sense. Mostly.

Aranea sat on the floor by the radio, fiddling with the stations and finishing off the last of her drink. Ignis sat down across from her and offered a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said, taking the glass and downing the entire thing. She landed on a song on the radio, a sad and slow number, and her eyes dropped to the ground.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired." She continued to look down, as the singer went on about how she'll never be good enough for her man. "You know this song?"

"I believe I've heard it before, but never paid it much heed."

"It's pretty damn sad. This girl acts all confident, but she secretly thinks she'll never be good enough for her boyfriend. And at the end, he leaves her. Go figure."

"Why does he leave?"

"I guess she just wasn't good enough after all."  
"Or maybe she never let him know the real her. She was too busy putting on an act of confidence."

Aranea looked at Ignis now. She felt unnerved by his gaze.

"Well I think that's bullshit," she said. "Women are taught that confidence is sexy. Men like it, so be confident—fake it till you make it. She does just that, but she still gets screwed."

"You're right, that is truly unfair. But why was she so focused on what men like to begin with?"

"I don't know, her father probably ran out on her or something. Everyone needs a little validation. Some people find it in partners. Some in their children. Some in their lifelong duties."

Now it was Aranea's turn to unsettle Ignis.

"Is it so wrong to devote your life to something you believe in?" Ignis offered.

"Not necessarily. But what happens when its gone?"

"I suppose one must find something else then…" Ignis looked so somber at this prospect, Aranea felt a little guilty for posing the question.

"Hey, I'm pretty tired actually," she said. "Mind carrying me upstairs so I don't have to crash on the floor?"

"Of course. I shall try my best, given my unsteady legs."

"You and me both."

—

Ignis resolved to get Aranea back to her bed without falling over. He carried her up the stairs as her head rested on his shoulder, carefully opening the door and maneuvering through, then traversing the final steps to the bed at last. He lay her down gently, and she opened her eyes a little, curving up the corner of one side of her mouth.

"You know, I'm still thinking of what happened on the porch earlier," she said. "I actually feel a little rejected."

There was nothing coy in her voice though; she sounded genuinely disappointed. Ignis sat on the bed, close to her.

"I thought you'd be into this," she continued, adding that playful purr back that Ignis was now certain was a masking mechanism.

"You are most certainly not rejected," he said softly.

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure that you said… no." She reached up and tapped his nose.

"I merely said no to a 'screw.'"

"That's exactly why I'm confused. No one ever said no to that before. Look at me, Ignis. Don't kid yourself—I'm clearly the 'screw.' Never the 'marry.'"

In her drunken state, a certain sadness was betrayed in her eyes as she said this. Ignis looked at her differently now; he could see the disappointing string of experiences that must have culminated in this conviction. Yes, she was beautiful and voluptuous in all the right ways, but he felt saddened at the thought that no one would look beyond it. He barely knew her, and yet she was already the most fascinating person he had ever met. He wanted to tell her that. He wanted to blurt out that he'd marry her in a heartbeat, his 22-year-old idealism peaking through the usual wise-beyond-his-years demeanor.

"Aranea," he started, "it's not that I don't want to. Believe me. But I also don't want to be another one of your screw guys. You deserve more."

"More… You mean like romance and flowers and cheesy nicknames? Sorry to disappoint you, but it's not exactly my style."

Ignis sighed. "Indeed it isn't." He was beginning to feel foolish. What was he supposed to say, that he wanted to get to know her? He was about to sail across the sea to an unknown future, and she would go off and do god knows what. It was probably best to let it go. He stood up and walked toward the couch, just in case Gladio made his way back up to his bed at some point.

"Hey, Ignis."

He turned around to look at her. She seemed unable to make up her mind about what to say. Then she tapped the empty space next to her.

"Why don't you sleep here?" she said, then pulled off the blue velvet dress, revealing only her bra underneath. "Don't worry, it's not for screwing. I'm just getting comfortable."

Ignis wanted to say no, knew that he should, but then again…

"If you don't mind, that would be a much more comfortable sleep."

He walked back as he unbuttoned his clothes and pulled down his trousers, keeping only a t-shirt and underwear on, and put his glasses on the side table. He climbed under the covers, making sure to keep a respectable distance, as tempting as it was to curl himself around her.

Just as he was drifting off, he felt Aranea shift closer to him, could sense the heat of her body nearby. He turned over to face her, and found her back to him, just inches away. She moved her hips back to close the distance, then casually reached over and grabbed his hand, pulling it across and placing it on her breasts. She hugged his hand close, intertwining her fingers in his, as he buried his face in the back of her neck. Despite her obvious flirtation earlier, Ignis felt this was different somehow—the way she held his hand, even how her hips pressed strongly into him but without their innuendo-filled sway.

"I know it's hardly an ideal time," he whispered, "but I do wish to get to know you better."

She didn't say anything in return, and he didn't see her smile to herself, but she did pull his hand a little closer in response.

—

Aranea woke up slowly, her head feeling a little dull. As her senses came back to her, she became aware of the hand her own held, pressed against her chest, clutched like she was afraid it might disappear. The previous night came flooding back, and she felt a sudden feeling of dread as she recalled how she had thrown herself at Ignis.

It's not that it wasn't something she would do. It was more that she clearly misread his intentions. Or rather, she never had intentions like his directed at her before.

He wasn't her usual type—Gladio probably fit the bill better. But for some reason, she had noticed him. He was impressive in battle, sharp-witted, and—something told her—unwaveringly kind and devoted. It was not something Aranea had much experience with when it came to men. If she had to sum it up, she would say she was always the mistress, never the wife—often not finding out until it was too late.

But she had accepted it; that was her lot in life, and she could use it. Enjoy it even. It came with a certain power, never having to care.

And yet now, she very much cared that someone was wrapped so protectively around her. She couldn't recall ever waking up with a man still in the bed come morning—and certainly not clothed. She dared herself to turn around and face Ignis, almost like an experiment to see what she would feel.

She moved slowly to avoid waking him. She winced as her leg wound took the pressure of her weight, but she tolerated it anyway. She watched the early morning sunlight dance over his closed eyes, his face looking so relaxed she was envious that he could be this detached from the troubles of the world in his sleep. But she knew he was also practical, and probably didn't see much point in worrying when he should be getting rest. Or perhaps the wine had simply knocked him out.

Aranea had never just looked at someone before. She had not studied the curve of a nose or the shape of the lips, or the other minute details that made someone unique. She quite frankly never cared enough to. Ignis, however, was worth studying. There was something quite beautiful about his face. The slight bump on his nose, the freckles, the odd pockmark on his skin—it all combined into something strangely perfect. And his lips…

To her surprise, Aranea buried her face in his chest next, and she felt him tighten his arm around her. She breathed in his scent. Most men smelled like too much expensive cologne, cheap deodorant, or, worst case, a stomach-turning body odor. But Ignis was all freshly laundered clothes and a slightly sweet musk. Even his overnight scent was completely pleasant to her.

"Rise and shine!" Gladio's booming voice came into the room, and Ignis immediately shot up in the bed, leaving Aranea's face feeling cold. "We're about to have some breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Ignis reached for his glasses and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He tried to read Gladio's expression about the fact that he was sharing a bed with Aranea, but there was no judgment there, no teasing looks.

"I put toast on."

"Toast? After a night like that? That won't do. We need the full hangover cure." It was hardly the first time Ignis has had to make this breakfast.

"That sounds great, but I didn't want to wake you."

"No, no. I'm fine. I will be down in a minute."

"Sounds good." Gladio turned back at the door. "Morning, Lady A," he said, and gave Aranea the teasing look instead.

—

When Ignis carried Aranea downstairs, he half-expected some sort of reaction, but everyone was clearly too busy trying to nurse their hangovers—especially Iris, who had forsaken her Noctis duties to remain on the couch with the bucket nearby.

Ignis set Aranea at the table and set to work making breakfast while Gladio (who handled his liquor uncannily well) came up with a game plan. Prompto would drive to Ravatogh, Iris would be in charge of their curative supplies, and Gladio would carry Noctis. They would start climbing up the volcano as soon as they arrive, likely needing to rest a night at camp before continuing on to the hot spring—it will surely be a challenging climb with Noctis incapacitated. Once Noctis was submerged, they would wait for however long it took for the paralysis to lift, make camp once more if necessary, and head back. Hopefully it wouldn't take more than two nights.

Two nights, Ignis thought as he looked at Aranea stirring her coffee. Two nights…

—

Ignis helped load the car with supplies and enough food to last them the trip. Aranea had stayed in the house, knowing there was no point in being carried all the way down to where the Regalia was parked.

"Are you sure you don't need me to come with you?" Ignis asked once more.

"We went through this last night," Noctis said in a bored tone. "It makes the most sense."

"Yeah, and I don't really want to be left alone with Aranea," Iris added. "I mean, she's actually pretty cool. But I don't know how to take care of someone's wounds."

"Besides, you two are pretty much bunk mates now," Gladio said, nodding approvingly. Ignis felt his cheeks flush.

Prompto jumped into the driver's seat excitedly and started up the car. "Be good now Iggy, and don't burn the place down! No crazy parties, okay?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"And use protection!" With that, Prompto revved up the engine before Ignis could say anything, and sped off.

Ignis turned around and faced the stairs up toward the house. With the others driving off and leaving him all alone, something began to shift inside. He had no duties now, no Prince—or King—to look after. No one to worry about cooking for. No messes to pick up.

He was standing there, all by himself, with two nights to do with as he pleased. And he knew what he pleased.

Ignis took the stairs calmly but with purpose, one at a time. As he got closer to the top, closer to the house, he picked up his pace. His heart beat faster. His movements got more fervent. He ascended the steps to the porch and opened the door.

Aranea sat perched on the dining table, flipping through a book. She looked up as he entered, and the realization that they were truly alone hit her too. She couldn't think of anything good or clever to say, so she did something unusual: She started to ramble.

"So, I was thinking, there's a good fishing spot nearby and maybe it would be nice to check it out. I mean, I've never fished before—" Ignis walked across the distance between them with that same sense of purpose. "—but maybe I can learn to fish, or at least try, or you could show me how if you d—"

Ignis grabbed her face, still gentle, but with more intent than she had ever seen from him.

"Aranea. Stop talking."

He kissed her, hard and passionate and certain.

 **Next Chapter:** Ignis and Aranea enjoy domestic bliss—and a room all to themselves.


	6. Baring It All

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on getting this chapter out. It's a bit shorter than usual and still some build happening—but at least it's getting sexy!_

 **PART SIX: BARING IT ALL**

Aranea dipped her toes into the water, making little circles with her feet. She sat on the small pier and looked up at Ignis, who stood next to her and struggled with Noctis' fishing rod. Clearly he was more at home preparing the fish than catching it, and she laughed softly at his frustration.

When Ignis had kissed her that morning, she felt a surge of relief. At last, she was getting what she wanted—or at least what she thought she wanted. They shared that heated kiss on the dining table, Ignis practically climbing on top of her, and for a moment she was certain they would go all the way right then and there.

But then something happened. Aranea stopped Ignis and gently pushed him off.

"What's wrong?" he had asked her, immediately self-assessing where he took a misstep.

"Nothing, it's just…" Then, Aranea realized she didn't want to do what she usually did; she didn't want to rush things. It wasn't a game she had to win and she wanted to do it his way instead—take it slow. "We have all day, don't we?"

Instead of looking frustrated as she half expected, Ignis seemed happy to hear her say this.

"You suggested fishing," he said after a moment. "Why don't we give it a go? Though I must confess, I've never fished before. I've only ever watched Noct do it. But how hard could it be?"

And now here they were, with Ignis ready to throw the rod in the water and looking adorable in his frustration. He had to carry Aranea to the fishing spot, but he had made no complaints. He insisted it was good exercise. He then struggled with casting the line for a good while, and Aranea found herself smiling warmly at him despite her best intentions to keep it coy. There was something undeniably comfortable about this scenario.

"I thought you said this would be easy," she teased. Ignis looked so genuinely frustrated, it made her laugh even more.

"I could use a little more positive reinforcement, thank you very much, or you can forget about dinner."

"It's okay, I was thinking we could just skip straight to dessert anyway."

Ignis paused and peered down at her as she leaned back and gave him a flirtatious wink, but nearly lost his footing as the fishing rod yanked forward in his hands. He just barely managed to hold on, and started attempting to reel in. Aranea shot upright to see what was going on.

"It's a big one!" Ignis exclaimed.

"I can see it!" Aranea shouted back, getting excited now. "You got this, just keep reeling in!"

"The line… it's getting weaker."

Aranea watched as Ignis managed to reel the large fish in a bit closer, but he was struggling to close in the last few feet.

"It's going to snap!" he yelled, as he attempted to ease off on the reel a touch.

Then Aranea had an idea. She quickly pulled her top over her head, shoved her skirt down, and yanked her boots off—and then propelled herself into the water.

"Aranea, what are you doing!"

She swam as fast as she could toward the fish and flung herself around its raging body just as the line snapped. She held on, trying to subdue the beast, but it was surprisingly strong and very much wanting to live. It gave one final, hard slap to Aranea's face with its tail, causing her to release an arm in reaction. It took the opportunity to wiggle free and make its way far away from these amateurs.

"Aranea, are you okay?" Ignis yelled from the pier. She turned around, realizing the absurdity of the situation—had she really just tried to wrestle a fish into submission?—and started laughing uncontrollably.

"I take it you're not hurt then."

"No. But he sure gave me a bitch slap! Guess I had it coming."

Aranea waded back to the pier, and was able to place her feet on the rocks and sand at the bottom. Her partial weightlessness took the pressure off her wounded leg, and she was able to stand.

"Hey Ignis, the water feels amazing. You should come in here."

"I don't want to wet my clothes."

"So take them off."

Ignis paused and Aranea was pretty sure she saw his thought process weighing the pros and cons of the situation playing out on his face. He then gave a half-smile.

"Why not," he said, and started to unbutton his shirt while Aranea waded around the edge of the pier, out of sight. She pulled her bra up over her head and placed it on top of the pier. She reached down and pulled her underwear off too.

She wasn't sure where this idea came from, but the cool water felt amazing against her newly naked parts. She swam back out away from the pier, making sure that if Ignis looked at her now, he would certainly see her exposed behind.

"Don't forget to take your underwear off too!" she shouted back, catching his attention. "It would feel awful to get that wet."

Ignis looked up to see the high noon sun shining on Aranea's exposed back as she swam further out to sea. He almost choked a little as he noticed her wet underwear on the pier, confirming that it wasn't just the light playing tricks on him. He had already taken off everything—neatly folded, of course—except for his underwear. On-duty Ignis would not have so much as taken his glasses off.

But he was off-duty Ignis now, he reminded himself, and the rules were completely different apparently. In fact, he wasn't even sure what the rules were anymore. It may very well include skinny dippy as an allowable indulgence. And so he quickly pulled his underwear down too and jumped into the water before Aranea could sneak a peek at anything, and swam out to join her.

As Ignis got closer, he was thankful the water darkened a little and left at least something to the imagination. It wasn't that he felt unsure about himself; it was more so the speed with which everything was progressing. A couple of days ago, Aranea was rudely slapping him for keeping her prisoner. Now, he was fantasizing about her in ways he'd never done with anyone else. And not just about sex, but what life with her might be like. These thoughts both scared and excited him; his current realities were hardly the right environment for romance, and he knew these few days would have to be enough.

He finally caught up to Aranea as she treaded water, her back to him.

"So is this your idea of taking it slow?" he teased.

She turned around and he realized the water wasn't quite so dark for the first several inches and she breasts were mostly visible, only a little bit distorted under the waves she created as she tread. Ignis tried very hard not to let his eyes drop, lest he come off as disrespectful.

"I'd say this is perfectly good foreplay," she said. She noted how his hair was slicked back and wet now. It was a good look for him.

"Your definition of foreplay is pleasing."

"Oh yeah? You like a bit of skinny dipping?"

"I haven't done it before, actually."

"Well then, I'm glad to be taking your skinny dipping virginity."

"And, hopefully, my proper virginity too."

"Wait—what?"

"I'm joking," Ignis laughed.

"Thank the gods. I suspected you were a bit younger than me, but I didn't think it was that bad!"

"I'm 22."

"What?!" Aranea nearly swallowed water as a wave hit her face, as if on cue.

"Is that… a problem?"

Aranea studied his face, and she still couldn't see it. Ignis seemed far too mature to be so young. "You definitely come off as older."

"I've often been told that. Perhaps it's the stress of raising a prince."

"Well, as long as you're mentally older, we should be fine."

"I know this is probably inappropriate to ask a lady… but how old are you?"

"Let's just say I'm old enough not to answer that."

"Oh. That bad."

Aranea splashed water on Ignis' face as he broke into laughter.

"I do like an older woman," he added. "You have a good chance of not outliving me in old age then."

"Oh, are we growing old together now?"

"It is merely logical to consider all possible outcomes," he replied, trying to sound as casual as possible, though a slight blush had formed on his cheeks.

Aranea splashed water on his face again, and he retaliated this time. Out here in the water, they couldn't be farther from the stern advisor and fearless warrior they played in their usual lives.

—

As they swam back to the pier, Aranea stopped where she could put her feet down on the sandy floor.

"Just a second. It feels nice to stand on my own two feet again."

"Of course." Ignis stopped as well, waiting in front of her. He reached over and moved some wet strands of hair off her cheek.

"This would be a good moment for you to kiss me again," Aranea stated matter-of-factly.

Ignis was practically on her lips as he answered, "I'm inclined to agree."

Ignis was now acutely aware of how naked they both were. He shivered as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her right up against him, moving his hands up and down her back and daring to go a bit lower. It seemed the right moment to take another step.

"Perhaps we should head back to the house," Ignis said breathlessly.

Aranea moved her lips down his neck and over his collarbone. "Perhaps…"

This entire morning had been one long tease in a way Aranea wasn't used to; she never wanted someone so much before. She broke away and made her way to the pier, grabbing hold of the rickety wood planking as Ignis came up behind her and gave her a boost. She hoisted herself up, knowing full well that she was giving Ignis one hell of a view. She crawled toward her nearby underwear, taking it in her hand as she heard Ignis make his way onto the pier behind her.

"Wait," he said. "Put that down."

She was surprised to feel his hands run up her outer thighs and over her ass. She dropped her underwear and looked over her shoulder at him as he hovered above her, kissing between her shoulder blades. She arched her back as he made it his way down her spine, his hands squeezing her ass as he reached her lower back.

"Turn around," he said. His voice was still soft and kind, but carried with it a certain authority—and hunger.

Aranea enjoyed seeing this side of him come out. She twisted around, leaning onto her hands and allowing him to take a good look at her. Her breasts were still wet and her dripping silver hair sent tiny streams of water over the front of her body. She was always confident in her figure, but watching Ignis look at her now made her nervous.

"You are the most stunning woman I have ever seen," he said, as if on cue.

"You sure know when to say the right things," Aranea replied.

Ignis smiled and pushed her legs apart as he leaned in to kiss her again. She could feel he was hard for a moment, but he didn't linger at her lips long. He worked his way down instead, running a tongue over her breasts before continuing further. Aranea watched as his lips arrived between her thighs.

She lay down completely, letting Ignis take the lead as she looked up at a clear blue sky. Her eyes closed and she let out a moan as she felt him get deeper and more fervent. She was worked up and ready to explode with an intensity she knew well, but not usually from someone else's touch. In all her experiences, no one had ever made her come before—not without her having to take matters into her own hands. Often she would think of anyone but the person she was with.

But now, the very thought of Ignis between her legs filled her with a longing for release. She felt it building and building until she finally gave in, wrapped in the sensation of cool water on her skin and the baking sun, mixed with smells of sweat and something sweet. She shuddered and clenched her fists, and all her muscles contracted till she was beyond exhausted, and everything went heavy and limp. She opened her eyes back to that blue sky as Ignis' silhouette made his way into her vision. She reached up and ran her fingers over his left eye, almost like a thank you.

"Hungry?" he asked, almost comically casual.

"Wait, don't you want me to… you know?" The men she had known were all about the reciprocity.

"Well, I would not object—but there's plenty of time for that. Besides, now I've worked up quite an appetite."

"You did not just say that."

"One might say I've even…"

"Don't do it."

"... come up with a new recipe."

Aranea's hand found his underwear nearby and she threw it at his face.

"You'll definitely need this now, Four Eyes."

"Still worth it."

 **Next Chapter:** Ignis and Aranea continue to get to know each other and—gasp—play house!


	7. The Last Note

_Author's Note: I'm back from my travels now, so I should be updating more frequently. Thanks for bearing with me! I tried something a bit different (poetic?) with a certain scene *ahem*sex*ahem*. It wasn't intentional, it just came out this way. I hope it somewhat works for people (and yes, the change in tense is intentional)._

 **PART SEVEN: THE LAST NOTE**

The house was almost too quiet with the rest of the party gone. Aranea fiddled with the radio as she searched for a station that suited her, while Ignis prepped in the kitchen. They may have come back empty-handed from their fishing venture, but there was plenty of anak steak left in the house.

"Too fast?" Aranea called over, as she found a station playing a rock number.

"Perhaps something a little more... atmospheric?" Ignis shouted back over the noise.

"Fine, I'll find you sappy love song!"

"Certainly suits the mood better."

Aranea was glad Ignis couldn't see her smiling at that comment. She had no idea what exactly was developing between the two of them, but she was enjoying this game they were playing—perhaps even a bit too much, a thought briefly flashed in the back of her head.

"Ah, here we go," she declared, as she found a beautiful piano ballad. She wouldn't normally advertise it, but this kind of music secretly suited her. Love songs, breakup songs, heart-wrenching ballads—but of course, she pretended she was into more hardcore music around Biggs and Wedge. On the surface, it was all about maintaining that image: a heart of steel, only fists to cry tears over.

After settling on the station, Aranea stood on her good leg and tried jumping toward the kitchen. Ignis noticed and immediately dropped what he was doing, coming over to assist her.

"It's okay, I'm fine," she tried.

"Perhaps. But it's still a good excuse to get to practice my chivalry."

He put his arms around her waist and she wrapped hers around his neck.

"You're such a sap."

"You don't seem to mind."

They stood a moment, swaying a little to the music. Aranea then jumped up, wrapping her legs around Ignis' waist, and he carried her over to the kitchen, placing her on the counter near the stovetop.

"Would you terribly mind stirring?" he asked.

"You're in luck. I'm excellent at using long sticks."

Ignis raised an eyebrow at this and handed her a long wooden spoon, then continued with his work, throwing various ingredients into the pot. He could still taste a bit of her on the corners of his mouth from earlier at the pier, and secretly relished at the thought.

"So is this what domestic life is supposed to be like?" Aranea said after watching him a while. She liked how concentrated he looked with his task; it was very endearing.

"You mean cooking together?"

"Yeah, and just, you know... Not fighting off people or monsters. Not worrying. Not having to, I don't know, survive I guess?"

"I suppose you simply worry about—and survive—different things."

"Like divorce?"

"Or children," he said, clearly joking.

Aranea thought about that a moment. They certainly seemed like something to survive to her. "Think you'll have any? After you finish raising His Royal Highness, of course."

"I never thought about it much, but I always assumed that one day it would be in the cards."

"Hm. They kind of scare me."

Ignis smiled at the thought of tiny tykes scaring the fearless dragoon. "How so?"

"I'm an expert at killing things, not keeping them alive."

"Then simply do the opposite of what you normally would, and you'll be fine."

"I tried that with a house plant once. Needless to say, it wasn't a success."

Ignis throw a few peppers into the pot and Aranea stirred dutifully. "Let me have a taste," he said. Aranea raised the wooden spoon to him and he took a sip. "A touch more salt." She ventured a sip too, but had no idea what made him come to that assessment; it was already better than anything she could have made.

"So how many kids would we have?" Aranea asked, looking around the room as if she half expected them to materialize. Ignis nearly sliced a finger off at this question. "I'm just theorizing," Aranea added quickly, going back to her stirring.

"Two," Ignis answered after a moment.

"Two? I thought you'd be all about having a big brood."

"I'm far too practical for that."

"Oh?"

"One is lonely. Three means they will all have some sort of syndrome. Four is exhausting and expensive, and anymore than that is just ridiculous. Two is perfect."

"A boy and a girl?"

"A girl first, and then the boy." Ignis was starting to get caught up in the fantasy now, looking up at some vision he was creating in his mind. He spoke slower. "She would take after you a lot, but have my demeanor."

"And the boy would be more of a physical blend," Aranea added, "but a bit of a troublemaker. Nothing we couldn't handle, of course." She slapped the wooden spoon in her hand for emphasis.

"A good talking to would suffice," Ignis said, raising a brow.

"All this baby talk, and we haven't even started the baby making yet."

"We better eat quickly then. Though I was going to make some dessert." Ignis gestured at the sack of flour he had set out.

Aranea reached over and grabbed a handful from the sack, then threw it in Ignis' face. "There. Now you're dessert."

Ignis feigned anger as he grabbed a handful of flour too and blew it all over Aranea. She looked so unimpressed at this retaliation, he burst out laughing. This was not at all how he normally behaved, making such a mess. And yet he couldn't contain his laughter as Aranea licked the flour off her lips with a blunt look; clearly she was used to being the only one throwing flour around. He'd be paying for this later.

"Oh, you are making up for this, Four Eyes."

—

Aranea stood in front of the sink in the bathroom, weight mostly on one weary leg. She splashed water on her face, then on her chest, clearing away the last of the flour. She glanced around for anything, anything at all that could make her feel a touch more put together. She felt surprisingly nervous now, knowing that Ignis was sitting on her bed just outside. She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and found a brush. It would have to do.

Who was she, she wondered, getting anxious like this?

She hobbled over to the door, opened it, and hopped through. Ignis immediately ran over, helping her to the bed. He seemed more nervous now too, unlike earlier at the pier. It gave her a boost of confidence to see him a little undone.

Dinner had been lovely, with the conversation flowing easily between them as they talked about imaginary lives that they both knew would likely never come to pass. But regardless, the music and delicious food and the candles that Ignis had insisted on lighting made it feel like another world altogether where it didn't seem so crazy to talk about this imagined future. A world Aranea may not have necessarily dreamed of before, but all of a sudden found an appealing warmth in. Maybe it was her age, she thought, a subtle maternal clock kicking in. Or maybe it was that, for the first time, there was a man sitting across from her that she could actually picture this life with. The significance of this wasn't lost on her either, though it came with a certain inner conflict—which Aranea found herself unsuccessfully brushing aside.

Once dinner had finished, they both knew there wasn't any point in putting things off anymore—nor did they want to. They silently put their dishes in the sink and Ignis took Aranea upstairs.

Now, as Ignis carried her from the washroom to the bed and gently lay her down, Aranea was pretty certain this was what those singers she secretly liked always crooned on about. She had never met anyone like Ignis before—and never wanted to ever again.

—

 _Hands running up and down, over curves that never seem to end and muscles that twitch and tighten with each sensation. His heart beats so fast, his forehead shines with sweat. He is nervous, then less so, then navigating her like he had been here a thousand times—yet everything about her is new and exhilarating._

 _Hands on him, around him, down on him. He breaths in sharply at the sensation of soft lips entwining him, immersing him, tongue gently massaging him. A little slower, then a touch faster—just right—as he maneuvers her around for complete equity._

 _Smooth and warm and wet, the thought of where both their lips are placed is almost enough in itself. Sometimes he needs to think of something else, something dull, because damn the Six, he is surely done if he doesn't. This is almost too much, too much goodness for him to know what to do with._

 _Now she's taking charge, she's pushing him back and having her way. Letting him in. And by the gods, it feels so good, so right. Gentle moans and murmurs, something like relief. It has been all day coming, but it feels even longer. Now it's here at last, she's here at last, and he reaches up to run his hands on every inch he can, committing everything to memory._

 _Lips meet, everything feels wet, there's a scent of sweat and the humidity of the musty old house and the sea. There's the smell of leftover dinner. There's a sweetness lingering in the air._

 _He moves on top, he's still gentle—as is his nature—but firm, and he's no longer nervous. Being with her feels like the most natural thing. He moves and assesses her reactions, moves in tandem with her hips. She squirms, she arches, she grabs him by the back of the head and moans into his mouth. She meets his eyes, thinks of how beautifully green they look, vows to never forget how they look as they gaze at her._

 _There's no soul in sight or within earshot, except the old man tinkering on a boat near the lighthouse, but the sounds he could have heard are carried safely past his aging ears._

 _Finally, he collapses on top of her and she shivers a little still, despite the heat, and runs her hands up and down his back, his fingers tangled in her messy hair. They breathe together._

—

Ignis opened his eyes slowly in the morning. It seemed late, later than he normally slept. The first thing he noticed were the soft limbs wrapped around him from behind. He took a hand and pressed his lips to it, then examined it. The palms were callused from years of handling pole arms. The knuckles had some cuts and scrapes that were healing. The nails were trimmed and clean, but otherwise not tended to—no trimmed cuticles or brightly painted colors. This was not the hand of a woman who mingled with royalty, no society girl or lady who lunches, which is what he always thought was his most likely partner; and perhaps it still was. But he now wanted nothing more than to trade it in for these hands, calluses and all.

His phone buzzed and he reached over to the bedside table to check it. He had a message from Prompto, a picture of Noctis submerged in a hot spring with one hand held above his head in a thumbs up and an enthusiastic grin. He also had a text from Gladio: "One arm down, three limbs and a torso to go. But hey, at least it's working. Keep you updated on the progress."

"Your solution worked," he whispered to Aranea, assuming her change in breathing meant she was waking up too.

"Good. Glad I could be of service," she murmured back, then rolled onto her back and stretched out. Ignis put his phone down and turned to look at her, bathed in sunlight and the sheets sliding off her naked body. He ran his hands over her breasts, still in awe of them.

"We have till tomorrow morning," he said. "What would you like to do?"

Aranea was at a loss. She never really had to think about this—a day off with no tasks to do, no no situation to control, or target to eliminate. She hadn't the slightest idea what "free time" meant to her.

"Your call, Four Eyes," she deflected casually.

Ignis thought about this as well, and felt equally unsure. "Truth be told, I never really had a day off like this before. Sure, sometimes I'd have time off where I would follow whatever the others wanted to do, or perhaps an evening on my own here. But by then, I'd be too tired to do much of anything..."

"Well," Aranea said thoughtfully, "maybe we need to try doing... nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah. Let's just stay in. Or around the house. And just... do nothing."

"Nothing sounds... wonderful."

—

If this is what doing nothing with Ignis was, then Aranea wanted to stretch it out as long as possible. They had stayed in bed another hour, getting to know each other's bodies even better. They spent the rest of the morning cooking together, or rather Ignis showing Aranea how, and Aranea determined to foil Ignis' breakfast by playfully throwing in extra ingredients—but of course, it still came out perfect somehow. They slowly walked around the premises a while, with Aranea insisting her leg felt good enough for a very limply stroll. All the while, Ignis kept a protective arm around her and dressed her wounds after without a word or scold; they looked a little worse for wear from the effort, but he knew how much she wanted to feel more independent.

They sat by the lighthouse after, leaning against each other in silence and basking in the simplicity of being with someone where no words are required. After a while, Aranea wordlessly ran a hand up Ignis' thigh, changing the mood. Ignis watched the waves crashing as she worked wonders with her lips down below.

By evening, they were curled up on the couch, wine glasses in hand, listening to a comedy show on the radio and debating the merits of the humor. Ignis quite enjoyed the puns while Aranea berated the "low hanging fruit" type of comedy and wondered why it couldn't be a bit smarter.

"You like clever comedy, do you?" Ignis asked.

"Yeah. If I want dumb comedy, I already have Biggs and Wedge."

"Now now, no need to be mean." Ignis took her wine glass and placed it on the table, along with his. He began to crawl over her.

"I'm not, but I swear those two are one stooge short of having their own TV show!" He started kissing her neck. "Don't get me wrong, they're like my best friends—" He moved down toward her breasts. "But they're just…" And Aranea's voice trailed off as he reach a hand between her thighs.

For the rest of the night, they were naked and intertwined—on the couch, on the floor, on the stairs, in the bed.

It was nearly morning when Ignis slumped on his back, Aranea breathing satisfied and heavy on his chest, and his phone buzzed again. It was a message from Gladio, saying that Noctis was finally all fixed up and they were heading back. They should arrive in a few hours.

Aranea peered up and read the message too. Her eyes sank down at the realization of what this meant. Ignis half sat up and put the phone back, then took a notepad and scribbled something on it. He handed it to Aranea.

"I suppose this is your last note."

"What is it?" she asked, not fully making sense of the scribbles at first.

"Coordinates. This is where we're located, if you want to call for a pick up."

Aranea understood. The others were coming back, and that meant they would head for Altissia first thing. It was not a mission she was meant to join, and they both knew it. Ignis was giving her the freedom to leave. On the one hand, it meant he trusted her fully. It also meant she no longer had a place here—but she understood.

"Thank you," she said at last, avoiding his eyes.

He handed her his phone. "Feel free to message whoever you need to."

She took the phone and texted Biggs the coordinates. A few minutes later she received a message that they would be there in an hour.

"I guess I'll be out of your hair then," Aranea said, finally looking at Ignis. He looked sad. She felt that way too, and he must have seen it because he took the phone away and pulled her close.

"Guess we better make good use of that time then."

"You want to go again? I'm amazed you have anything left in you!" Aranea laughed.

"I'm afraid I don't," Ignis replied, smiling a little now. "But I would very much like to lie here with you for just a little longer."

"Yeah. I'd like that."

—

Ignis helped Aranea hobble down the never-ending stairs to the road, where Biggs and Wedge were parked. They were still out of sight when Aranea stopped.

"Ignis…" she started. "I…"

Ignis was relieved she wanted to say something. They had spent the rest of the morning in silence, yet he was practically bursting to hear what was going on in her mind but didn't want to pry. "Yes?" he prodded gently.

"I'm not good at this."

"Me neither."

"So I'll just say this: I've never done anything like this before. But… I hope it'll happen again."

"Which part?" Ignis said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

She blushed. "You idiot."

"I hope so too, Aranea."

"And if you want a kiss goodbye, do it here cause it's not happening in front of those two." She gestured down toward the car.

Ignis wasted no time pulling her in, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. As their lips parted, Ignis whispered in her ear: "Whatever happens, I'll never forget how those fantastic breasts of yours look, Aranea Highwind."

Aranea pushed him away in mock horror, a little bit surprised at his humor—and pleasantly at that. Ignis laughed as he blushed in the morning sunlight, and she thought he looked so damn charming, dressed in his pinstripe white shirt and his hair still a little tousled.

"Choice parting words, Four Eyes. You're a real Lothario now. We better get down there."

Biggs stayed at the wheel while Wedge helped Aranea into the backseat of their van. Both men were clearly relieved to see she had been treated well and they didn't need to pick a fight. They informed her that they had sequestered a new ship, but they thought it best not to use it to come here in case it drew any Imperial attention. Wedge even gave Ignis a slight nod and thanked him for taking care of their Lady A.

Biggs started up the engine and Aranea rolled down the window. "Ignis. You take care of yourself, okay? Sure, take care of the Prince and all—but don't forget about yourself."

Not convinced that he could do that, Ignis nodded and smiled reassuringly at her. "You take care of yourself too, Aranea."

With that, the van tut-tutted to life and slowly pulled away. Ignis stood on the road by himself, watching the van until he couldn't see it anymore. Without the guys and Aranea, he felt very much alone at that moment.

He didn't like it.

 **Next Chapter:** Altissia happens.


	8. No Fairytale

_Author's Note: Angst! Angst! Angst! So much angst. My original intention with this fic was to keep it light and fun and flirty, but alas… angst._

 **PART EIGHT: NO FAIRYTALE**

It was utter chaos. Everywhere Aranea looked, all she could see were people running away in panic, brick and mortar flying through the air. Off in the distance, she could see the outline of the hydraen, shrouded in mist and towering over the flailing city.

She had practically begged Biggs and Wedge to bring her here—if commanding them in the most intense tone she had ever used was considered begging. Perhaps selfishly, she had given them no choice but to follow her orders, despite their clear misgivings. She was still limping and it was far too dangerous to get so close to the Nifs, but she had to come.

After leaving Cape Caem, Aranea couldn't help but feel like she had made a mistake. There didn't seem to be a choice at the moment, but as the truck sped away from Ignis' silhouette—which she quietly watched disappearing into the distance from the backseat—she had a terrible feeling. Something told her that things wouldn't be the same again.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She heard reports of the Nifs moving out toward Altissia and that was that. She was going, with or without Biggs and Wedge, who of course refused to let their beloved leader take this on alone. But when they tried to pry her for information about why this mattered so much, she told them to shut it. They obeyed.

The motley crew had barely set their ship down when all hell broke loose. Luckily, the Imperials were too distracted with the hydraen to give a second thought to Aranea and her team, and they moved about the city bundled up in disguise as regular citizens, only conjuring their weapons when absolutely necessary.

Aranea was on a mission to find Ignis. She had no idea what she would say or do, but she just knew she had to. The first one she spotted, though, was Prompto. He was shooting at a couple of Imperials on an airborne bike, but spent more time dodging their bullets than getting any good shots in.

"Biggs! Wedge!" Aranea shouted, pointing toward the bike. Like a well-oiled machine, the two men raised their guns in the air and released a barrage of bullets, till the Imperials went limp and the bike went crash-landing. It hit the ground hard and skidded close to Prompto's feet, who swiftly removed the one Imperial still strapped to the bike and hopped on, waving a quick sign of thanks as he revved up the bike and lifted up into the air in the direction of the hydraen. He was clearly unaware of who had come to his aid.

Aranea, Biggs, and Wedge continued running through city, and Aranea caught sight of Gladio off in the distance, helping civilians retreat from a group of MTs. Biggs and Wedge shot a few helpful bullets in their direction, easily giving Gladio the upper hand, then pressed on through the labyrinthian streets.

They had reached the edge of a courtyard when Aranea finally saw the back of the familiar silhouette near the other end. She called out his name—then everything happened so fast.

—

 _A flash._

 _Heat._

 _Smoke._

 _Dust._

 _Aranea flying backwards, Biggs and Wedge breaking her fall._

 _The last thing she sees is Ignis' body in the air, and, horrifyingly, blood flying with him. From him._

 _Then the scent of burning flesh._

 _She opens and closes her heavy eyelids._

 _She hears her comrades' voices. They're cracked but reassuring._

 _They tell her she will be alright. They lift her up._

 _She tries to tell them no._

 _They refuse to obey._

 _She's too weak to fight._

 _And they carry her away._

 _She had him. She almost had him._

—

Aranea woke up to the sound of roaring water. As she opened her eyes, she recognized the inside of her room on the ship. Biggs and Wedge came into her line of vision, asking how she felt and explaining that she probably had a bad concussion. She looked around, still confused, and they explained how they had piloted the ship just a few miles from the city and were now perched in a well-hidden spot near a waterfall. She should be safe to rest up here for a few days.

"What happened?" She finally croaked out.

"We dun' know, miss," Wedge answered gently, placing a damp cloth on her head. "It all wen' a bit tits up back there. We hear the Oracle's passed."

"Shit…" Poor Noctis, Aranea thought. Just the other week, he seemed so ready to marry Luna. How quickly it all fell apart. She gathered her strength for another question. "And is… is he alive?"

"Not sure, miss."

She wasn't even certain if Biggs and Wedge knew who she was asking about, but she was no fool. They knew more than they let on.

Aranea drifted in and out of consciousness for a couple more days. Sometimes she would wake to sunlight on her face and think for a second that she was in Cape Caem, even reaching her hand over to feel Ignis next to her but finding only empty space. For a moment she would almost feel like crying, sense the tug of giving in to all of her fears, but she was stronger than that. Tears were useless. She had to get back to Altissia and find out what actually happened.

Once she was up and walking (and limping, her injured leg a little worse off yet again), she noticed that her cohorts had somehow collected an aerial bike like the one that Prompto had taken off on. She waited another agonizing few days for her head to clear and dizziness to subside enough that she could sneak out one night—ensuring that Biggs and Wedge were asleep and unlikely to stop her—and hopped on the bike, zipping off into the night toward the twinkling lights of Altissia.

The city had remarkably righted itself; she could hardly notice the remnants of the hydraen's wrath. Aranea landed the bike and limped over to a kiosk selling potions on the street, dressed in her civilian garb. She asked for the whereabouts of the most logical place she could think of: the hospital.

—

It had taken a while to find the right room, but her instincts were correct. Aranea let out an audible sigh of relief when she finally found his name on the clipboard on the outside of the door. It was dark in the room, and she slipped in without anyone noticing, carrying the clipboard with her. Thankfully, stealth had always been a strength of hers.

She gently shut the door and moved toward the sleeping figure hidden under white sheets, now feeling very nervous. What if he woke up and saw her here? What would she say? Hey Four Eyes, came to see how you're recovering? It didn't seem like nearly enough.

Aranea walked over without a sound and, as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she noticed it wasn't only his body covered in white. His face was hidden too.

She stepped up to the bed and looked at him, trying to make sense of it. There were his lips and his strong jawline, though a cut was being held together by stitches on his lower lip. But his eyes were completely bandaged up. He was breathing, but shallow. He seemed so far removed from the vibrant man she was waking up next to only a week ago.

Aranea looked around the room and noticed a table lamp in the opposite corner. She limped over and turned it on, shuffling through the pages of the clipboard, furrowing her brows as she read.

"Cuts requiring stitches on right eyebrow, bridge of nose, lower lip."

"Second-degree burn over left eye."

"Extensive damage to the eyes, particularly the left."

"Wounds should heal with significant scarring but minimal discomfort. Eyes, however, are unlikely to recover, leading to permanent loss of vision in both."

Aranea kept reading the last sentence over and over, her hands shaking.

Permanent loss of vision. Permanent loss of vision. Permanent loss of vision.

She shook her head in denial, feeling her eyes burning. She ungracefully limped back to the bed and looked at Ignis through the haziness, then blinked and let the tears fall this time.

She had been a fool; they both had been. Playing house, pretending like everything could be fine and there was a future ahead of them. Fool, fool, fool, she repeated in her head. An utter, damn fool. They had been so stupid. She wanted to scream and punch him and take those ridiculous bandages off so he could look at her and laugh in her face for making her cry. Got ya—you do care!

What in the world had they been thinking? Aranea had learned long ago that life was about nothing more than survival. Tactics. Making the best move, the smartest move. Ignis had been the dumbest thing she'd ever done. At this thought, she felt the tears coming even faster, her chest heaving with sharp breaths. She sat on the bed, finding the courage to take his hand with her own trembling fingers.

The best dumbest thing she'd ever done.

She wiped at her eyes and tried to figure out what to do next. She couldn't stay; it was just too much. She knew that if she were lying on the bed instead, Ignis would probably be there when she woke—but she was certain she wasn't nearly as good as him. She saw a prescription notepad and pen on the table next to his bed, and she reached for it.

She wasn't nearly as good as him, but that didn't mean she had nothing to offer.

She wrote something down, hands still shaking, and ripped off the paper. She folded it and carefully slid her hand under his pillow. She dared to look at him closer. The freckles on the right side of his cheek were visible—the ones she caught herself staring at and liking so much back at Cape Caem. She brushed her lips against them and pulled her hand out, leaving the note under the pillow. She stood up and grabbed the clipboard, walking away slowly.

Guilty. That's how she felt. But she didn't know how to handle this. The guys would know how to take care of him better than she did, she reasoned. He was going through enough already—the last thing she wanted was for him to have to keep her from crumbling, because she was certain she would if he woke up and spoke her name right now.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered as she slipped out the door.

—

Ignis woke up to darkness again. He still wasn't used to it, and it felt downright irritating to fight the urge to rub the sleep out of his eyes and see sunlight. He regretted nothing, but that didn't mean it was easy.

Prompto and Gladio were in the room, talking to the doctor, who he could feel checking on his less serious injuries. The smaller facial scars were healing well. That's something. No internal bleeding. Good. Could he please turn over on his side so the doctor could have a better look? His current position was starting to ache anyway.

Ignis shifted onto his right side, slipping a hand under the pillow for comfort. As he did so, his hand grazed something stiff—paper. Something told him not to remove it in front of the others.

The doctor asked him to breathe in and out, the cold circle of the stethoscope on his back. Once he was finished, he declared he was satisfied with Ignis' progress and encouraged him to start walking around with assistance. He needed to get his strength back. Both Prompto and Gladio volunteered and Ignis asked that they come back after he's had some breakfast.

After everyone left the room, Ignis found the paper under his pillow again; he was fairly certain it hadn't been there before. He unfolded it and ran his fingers over the surface. There was the slight indentation of pen markings, but he couldn't make anything out. He wondered if it meant what he was hoping—that Aranea had been here. That she had left him this little bit of reassurance, or perhaps even hope. Maybe one day, he could read it again, or she would read it to him.

But if she had been here, why didn't she stay? He felt the bitterness rising, his bottled anger threatening to unhinge at the thought. He ran various scenarios through his mind: she didn't want to attract the Imperials; she had a mission she couldn't abort; she didn't want to complicate the situation any further; she was scared—

She was scared. He frightened her. What in the world would she do with a man in his condition? Broken. Reliant. Weak.

She owed him nothing. Those few days they spent alone together seemed far and distant now. It was just child's play, a delusional break from the realities of their world. This note she left—if she indeed left it—was already generous of her.

Still, Ignis felt a longing for her soft arms.

—

The weeks have been tense between them. Gladio seemed perpetually angry and Prompto was buckling under the pressure to play the peacekeeper. And Noctis, well… Ignis could only feel sorrow for this newest loss.

Poor Lunafreya. When Ignis thought of the same thing happening to Aranea, he had all the sympathy in the world—and he hadn't even had any sign of her since the note he found. Noctis and Luna shared a far longer history. Although they never got the chance to be intimate, their bond seemed to transcend basic desires. He couldn't bring himself to push Noctis like Gladio was attempting. He needed proper time to grieve, even if it was a time of war.

The train pulled into Cartanica at sundown, so the group decided to get some rest before venturing into the mines in search of another Royal Arm. Ignis had made his way to a railing, which he assumed was overlooking some sort of vast scenery by the sounds of the wind in the open space below. He heard footsteps behind him. They were too light to be Gladio, but too decisive to be Prompto's skittish feet.

"Noct?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry about Gladio on the train earlier."

"Hey, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

"You're angry."

"So? Not like it matters. Nothing's gonna change."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you're doing very well." Ignis turned his face in Noctis' direction to offer a weak smile.

"You think so?" Noctis' voice carried only uncertainty.

"It's not easy," Ignis sighed.

"No, it's not…" Noctis moved next to him, leaning on the railing. "And Ignis, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Come on. Tell me what's really going on."

"You already know. I can't see. It's not ideal."

"Ignis."

Ignis sighed loudly, not knowing where to start. Only by not starting anywhere at all was he able to keep it together for this long. He simply wasn't ready to talk about his injuries.

"Just tell me something," Noctis said, almost pleading. "What's on your mind?"

Ignis thought a moment, then put his hand in his jacket's inner breast pocket and pulled out the folded note, hanging it to Noctis. He felt it leave his hand and heard the crinkling of paper as it was opened. He waited for Noctis to read it.

"Do you know what it says?" Noctis asked at last.

"No."

"Do you want me to read it to you?"

Ignis considered it a moment, judging Noctis' voice. It sounded… warm. As if whatever he had read was somehow touching.

"No. I want to read it for myself one day. And if I can't…"

"You want to hear it from her."

"Yes."

Ignis felt Noctis take his hand and put the note in it. He returned it to his pocket.

They looked out at the landscape below, Noctis taking in the prospect of yet another daunting challenge and Ignis imagining what the view must be like. From what little light he could sense, the sun was almost set.

—

Aranea looked out at the sun disappearing over the Tenebraen horizon. The days were getting shorter fast, and she was starting to miss the sun. It was unsettling, always waking in darkness.

Her days were mostly filled with the screams of daemons and victims. She didn't get much rest. But in rare quiet moments like these, she thought about drinking and playing games with the group, jovial and care-free. Or sitting with Ignis by the lighthouse, the warmth and weight of his body next to hers, all lean and long-limbed. With that came the feeling of guilt she still harbored for not staying in Altissia. She wondered if she'd ever see him again—and if he would forgive her.

"Miss! Lady A!"

Wedge's voice snapped her back to reality, and she turned around nearly ready to punch him for impeding on her time alone.

"Sorry to bother ya, miss, but there's a new train-full of refugees arrivin'."

Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she fixed her face in a stoic expression. "Thanks. I'll be right there."

Aranea looked at the fading sun once more and breathed out a little silent prayer for Ignis. For all of them.

Those boys better stay in one piece.

 **Next Chapter:** Aranea finally wears her heart on her sleeve in an unexpected way.


	9. Reunions

_Author's Note: So it's definitely looking like two more chapters, including this one. I had some feedback from a few readers on Iris disappearing from the story, and while I was going to stay canon to the game in that she stays at Cape Caem, I thought, screw it. Let's give her some more screen time. She doesn't get nearly enough. And, of course, plenty of Ignis and Aranea angst, including a scene that I've had planned since the beginning… it's cheesy, but I hope you like it :)_

 **PART NINE: REUNIONS**

Aranea couldn't believe what she was seeing as the refugees poured out of the train in Tenebrae. Of all the figures she expected to see, this wasn't one of them.

Small, tired, but still with that spring in her steps, Iris looked around like she was searching for someone. When her eyes met Aranea's, her focused face morphed into a smile and she bounded toward the dragoon.

Aranea braced herself for what she assumed was going to be a very intense hug, but Iris skidded to a stop in front of her, no longer certain it would be well received.

"Hey, Aranea," she said, awkwardly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey Iris." Aranea looked her up and down, so tiny and exhausted, and she felt a sudden surge of warmth for the poor girl. She pulled her close, surprising them both, and wrapped her arms around Iris protectively, smoothing her hair.

"Let's get you cleaned up, and we can talk," Aranea said as she broke away and lead Iris toward a group of nearby airships.

—

"So the last message you had from Noctis only said that he was heading to Tenebrae?" Aranea asked as she handed Iris a stiff drink to help her relax, and poured another for herself.

"Yeah. But then no one was writing back to me anymore. Service has been terrible. All I've heard from Gladdy was that he was okay, but things were tense and I should just focus on keeping myself safe. Then Noctis finally replied cause I sent him like a hundred messages asking how he was, and he wrote back that he was going to Tenebrae."

"So you disobeyed your brother and got on a boat right away."

"It wasn't easy, but I had to. Especially after those rumors about Luna…"

"I see."

Iris took a swig, trying to keep her face from contorting at the sting of the alcohol. She didn't want to appear weak in front of Aranea.

"It's not what it sounds like," Iris continued. "I'm just really worried about Noct. He must be so upset. I heard they didn't even find her body."

"I'm not surprised. Altissia was a mess."

"Wait, you were there?!"

"No. I just heard," Aranea recovered. She still had no intentions of telling anyone she was there—and ran off.

"Right. Well, since they aren't here yet, I hope you don't mind if I stay in Tenebrae for a bit?"

"Mind? I insist you do. Easier to keep an eye on you until that beefcake brother of yours shows up."

"And Ignis."

Aranea nearly choked on her drink at the name. Iris probably didn't know about his condition yet if Gladio had only sent that one message. She had no idea about the guilt eating away at Aranea either.

"Yeah, sure, and Noctis and Prompto too," Aranea replied, trying to take a casual sip of her drink.

"There was something going on with you two, wasn't there?" Iris asked.

"Me and Four Eyes? We were friends, I guess."

"Even when the two of you were left alone…?"

These questions were making Aranea squirm. "Yeah," she said, "we just talked and stuff. He cooked. That's it."

"Funny, that's what he told us too, when we got back from Ravatogh after curing Noct. The guys didn't believe him."

Aranea felt her face go hot.

"And I'm pretty sure he looked just as embarrassed as you do now," Iris added knowingly.

"You know, for a 15-year-old, you're far too perceptive for your own good. Now shut up and finish your drink."

Aranea and Iris exchanged a sly smile as they drained the last of their glasses.

"Okay, that's enough for you," Aranea said as she took Iris' glass and walked away. "Get some rest. You want to be fresh for your little reunion."

"Yeah. So do you."

Aranea shook her head and closed the door to the bunker she had put Iris in. She left the airship, and walked across the grass to another one, her own personal carrier. She entered her small room, consisting only of a bed, side table, and wardrobe, and lay down.

So. Ignis was presumably on his way.

She reached over to the side table and pulled out an envelope from the top drawer. She pulled out a handful of notes, reading them over again, an act she had done a number of times.

Like this, she could relive those few days in Caem. She could escape from her current world, in which Ignis was blind and Luna was dead and a 15-year-old girl had more guts to face the man she loved in his time of need than she did. She had run away from Altissia, pretending she was never there, and Iris had come all the way to Tenebrae, going on nothing more than a text—a journey that must not have been easy.

Aranea went through the notes in order, smiling to herself at Ignis' witty words. When she got to the last one—the coordinates to Cape Caem—her face dropped. He had set her free, but he hadn't really. In some ways, she still couldn't leave.

—

Aranea watched the train pull in to the station. She had a feeling it would be them this time, and sure enough, there came the King, looking worse for wear. Gladio followed, an awkward distance behind Noctis, and finally, a black cane appeared, followed by a slow and uncertain Ignis. Aranea's heart broke a little further at this sight, but she told herself to steel her eyes and put on her mask.

She was never the kind of girl who cried—until that moment in the hospital. It unsettled her greatly. She normally laughed things off, letting tense situations slide right off her shoulders. She didn't have crosses to bear. The more you show you care, the more you show your weakness, she reminded herself as she stepped toward the group.

Noctis had sat down on some stairs on the platform, looking drained. She approached him from behind, realizing that they would probably have their suspicions about her and her associations with the Empire as soon as Gladio made eye contact, a look of caution in his eyes.

"Fancy seeing you here, Your Highness," she began, keeping her voice level and casual. She noticed Ignis perk up at the sound of her voice, his lips parting a little, but he didn't say anything.

"Guess we've got you to thank for this mess," Noctis responded, sounding surprisingly bitter compared to the friendly King she knew from Cape Caem. So they were suspicious of her indeed.

"More to it than meets the eye," Aranea replied. "You wanna know who to thank? Come with me."

She walked away before she could check if they were following, silently seething that they would give her such a cold greeting—especially after her far friendlier reunion with Iris. Clearly they weren't drinking buddies anymore.

"Can't wait to hear this," she heard Noctis saying behind her.

Ignis followed silently, but Aranea knew she had to say something. She couldn't very well pretend she hadn't noticed.

"What did you do to your eyes?" she managed.

"Oh, uh…" Ignis seemed to be looking for the right words, like he wasn't sure what he thought of his condition himself. "Just a flesh wound."

"Can you see?" She already knew the answer, but she had to keep her ruse up. She certainly wasn't about to tell them she followed them to Altissia if they were this suspicious.

"I'm… afraid not." Ignis' voice carried more pain than Aranea expected.

Her own voice softened in response. "Wow. That sucks. It's a cruel world." It seemed so inadequate though, so she quickly changed the topic, suddenly realizing that Prompto was missing. "Uh, wasn't there one more of you guys?"

"Yeah… there was," Noctis said guiltily.

"We… lost track of him," Gladio added.

Aranea's heart nearly leapt out of her throat at the thought of Prompto, that sweet boy, being hurt, but she was determined to keep playing at their level. "Is he dead?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"I… I don't know," Noctis replied quietly.

"Then quit moping, keep hoping. And in the meantime, handle what's at hand." Aranea rolled her eyes internally for responding like that. It felt so… harsh. She silently cursed this tension that had formed between them. Dead fiancés at the hands of your former employer will do that…

They made their way to Biggs and Wedge as Aranea coolly explained that she does not, under no uncertain terms, work for the Empire anymore. She could feel the group relax just a little, even asking her to take care of the refugees on the train. She, in turn, offered up Biggs and Wedge to drive the train to Gralea.

Then Noctis left to talk to Maria, a former staff of the Fleurets, and Aranea remembered that Iris was still asleep in the ship.

"Hey Gladio, before I forget, have I got a surprise for you. Wait here."

She turned to leave just as she heard a resounding "Gladdy!" ring through the air, and Iris came running over from the ship, waving her hands.

"What? Iris?" Gladio was still shocked as Iris jumped into his arms. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay put in Caem!"

"I had to find you guys," she pleaded. "I'm sorry…"

Gladio shook his head, but Aranea could tell that he was happy to see her.

"Aranea took really good care of me," Iris added.

"Did she now?" Ignis mused, and Aranea was certain there was more to that statement.

"Yeah… Well, what was I supposed to do, tell her to hit the road when it's filled with daemons?" Aranea replied, still keeping her voice calm and casual, almost bored, though it was getting harder.

Gladio and Iris went off so he could scold her, hug her, and fill her in on everything (including Ignis' sight, if the sorrowful expression Iris threw in their direction was anything to go by). Aranea found herself left alone with Ignis. They stood in awkward silence for what felt like hours, faces turned in opposite directions. Eventually, he cleared his throat and made the first move.

"You seem well," he stated.

"I've been busy. Lots of people needing help and all…" Her voice trailed off as she realized what he must be thinking: Why didn't you help me?

"Yes. How kind of you to help."

"So, your eyes… I'm really sorry about that."

"It's hardly ideal, but I'm managing."

"I can see that. I'm impressed."

"Good. I'm glad that I can still impress you," he said, sounding sad and a little accusatory.

"Ignis…" Aranea breathed out and turned to face him. He seemed to sense this, because he turned toward her too. "I really am sorry…"

"Your pity is not what I need right now."

She was about to say something else when Noctis came back around, and Iris yelled out his name.

"Noct!" Iris ran up to him and gave him a big hug. Noctis was surprised to see Iris there, and appeared less inclined to hug her back at first. Aranea watched his face as he went from trepidation to softening into the familiarity, and then, finally, reciprocating the hug. Noctis buried his face in Iris' hair, and Aranea swore she could see a little bit of pain melt off the King's forlorn face.

"I guess she was right in coming here," Aranea said softly, mostly to herself, though she was certain she saw Ignis nod a little from the corner of her eye.

—

Iris sat across from Noctis at the diner, picking at some fries. Everyone had dispersed for the evening, with Gladio discussing the daemon situation with Biggs and Wedge, Ignis saying he needed some time to himself, and Aranea heading off to bed. They agreed to set out in the morning after getting some rest. Gladio had asked Aranea to keep an eye on Iris until she could head back to Cape Caem safely, so she knew she only had this one moment alone with Noctis.

"Hey Noct," Iris started, "I'm really am sorry about Luna."

"Yeah… me too."

Noctis had been quiet the entire time they ate, keeping his eyes down and lost in thought. Iris was starting to feel desperate to get through.

"Look, I know I'm no replacement for her, okay? But I'm here if you want to talk."

Noctis finally met her eyes. "Iris, I'm not looking for a replacement."

"I didn't mean it like that, I just meant that you can talk to me too. We've known each other for ages."

"I really don't want to talk right now…"

"Okay, fair enough. But you've barely touched your dinner. How are you going to fight like this?"

"I'm so sick of fighting. I'm sick of all of this. Ever since we left Insomnia…"

Noctis wiped at his eyes, trying not to let it overtake him, and stuffed a few fries in his mouth. Iris reached a hand over and took Noctis'. While he wasn't in the mood to talk, he seemed to welcome the touch.

"I'm sick of it too. I know this hurts. We all lost things. People…"

Noctis squeezed her hand at this. Of course, Iris had also lost her father too, and he had barely comforted her.

"Come here," he said, motioning to the empty spot next to him in the booth. Iris slid out of her seat and into his, keeping a bit of space between them out of respect. Noctis reached around her waist and pulled her close. Without hesitation, she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You've always been so good to me, Iris."

"I care about you."

"I care about you, too."

"Just… not like that."

She felt Noctis sigh, though it was not one of irritation.

"Maybe…" he started, "maybe one day, things will be different. Just, don't wait for me. Live your life, okay? You deserve that."

And there it was. It wasn't a "no." It was a maybe, sometime in the future, after an indeterminate amount of time. Don't hold your breath.

"Hey Noct?"

"Yeah?"

"Would it kill you to give me a kiss at least? It'll be my first. I always kind of hoped it would be with you…"

He didn't respond at first, and Iris was ready to burst into tears, certain that she had just humiliated herself.

"Sure," he whispered.

Iris turned her face to him in surprise. He looked back at her and touched her cheek lightly, smiling kindly. "But Iris, this will have to be enough for now."

She nodded and he leaned in, kissing her gently, slowly.

Was he thinking he was kissing Luna? Or was he actually in this moment with her? Iris decided it didn't matter. He was kissing her. His lips were on hers at last. It may not have been how she imagined it—but it was something.

After they broke apart, they sat there for a long while, silently picking at the remainder of the fries and Noctis' arm still around her.

—

Aranea lay on her bed, feeling agitated. Her armor was piled up in the corner, and yet she couldn't get comfortable wearing only her undergarments. Ignis was here in Tenebrae and all she wanted to do was talk to him, really talk to him, but instead she hid in her room. She was running again; she ran from Cape Caem, she ran from Altissia, and she was running now too. What the hell was wrong with her?

She reached for her envelope of notes, holding the package to her chest. She breathed in and out. It comforted her.

There was a quiet knock on her door, and she sat up, stashing the envelope back in the drawer.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"It's Ignis…" a hesitant voice responded.

She wasn't running anymore. She was cornered.

Aranea got up and opened the door, knowing he couldn't see if she was a little indecent, and found an apologetic-looking Ignis standing there, face to the ground. She didn't invite him in.

"Are you done avoiding me yet?" he asked softly.

"I'm not avoiding you," she replied, her voice reeking of defense.

"You've been acting strange ever since we arrived. As if… nothing happened."

"What do you mean? I'm not acting like that. I said I'm sorry about your eyes—"

"No, I mean as if Cape Caem didn't happen…"

"Oh, that. I mean, it was what it was, right? Just a bit of fun. Don't need to dwell on it. Besides, you've got a long road ahead."

Ignis reached into his inner breast pocket, pulling something out. "Then what is this?"

Aranea's eyes widened. It was the note she left under his pillow at the hospital. She assumed he wouldn't even find it.

"Have you… read it somehow?" she asked, unsure of the answer she wanted.

"No."

Ignis raised his head and looked in her direction with sad, unseeing eyes, clearly at the tipping point of letting out everything he's been bottling up. Aranea didn't know if she wanted to shove him away or embrace him.

"Why don't you come in?" she said, choosing something in between.

"Thank you."

Ignis entered cautiously, unsure of his surroundings.

"Here," Aranea said, taking his arm. "My bed's right here. Have a seat."

Ignis gingerly sat down and placed his cane next to him, propping it against the bed.

"So. You were there, in Altissia," he said.

"I was… I… I saw it happen."

"Why did you pretend you had no idea when we arrived here?"

"I don't know. I was scared, I guess, worried that you might think I had something to do with the Empire's doings. Or that you knew I didn't stick around, after…"

Ignis' face dropped at this. He held up the note again. "But you left me this."

"I did…"

"Why?"

Aranea remained silent, still debating how exposed she dared go—though she didn't have much strength left for pretenses.

"Please, Aranea…"

"Look, I'm no good at this kind of thing. You got a glimpse of another person in Caem, someone that isn't usually around. This here, this is who I am—and she's far from that girl."

"I don't believe that."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's the truth."

"It felt too real."

"Sure, it was real. It was fun and relaxing and romantic, and all that crap. But we were stupid for thinking it could be anything more. Look what happened to you, and Luna. You don't even know where Prompto is. And it's only the beginning."

"I see. So it's a case of the old 'I'm scared of losing the things I care about, so I better distance myself.'" Aranea's face went stone cold, but Ignis continued. "And while I respect your decision to do that, there's one problem."

"You care about me too much to let it go?" Aranea said sardonically.

"Exactly."

Aranea looked up at him, attempting to meet his eyes out of habit—and they were looking in her direction again, this time uncannily in the right spot for eye contact.

"Ignis… this is a terrible idea and you know it."

"Then why would you leave this note? Why come to Altissia at all?"

"You said you hadn't read it."

"No. Because I wanted you to do it."

"I don't know if I can now."

Ignis looked thoughtful for a moment.

"It's my fault," he said. "I've let you down. I promised I would take care myself, but I didn't. And for that I am sorry."

Aranea's mouth dropped in amazement. "Are you seriously apologizing to me right now?"

She covered her face with her hands, feeling the tears creeping in now. She wanted so badly to read the note to him, to say the words that had overwhelmed her in the hospital, standing over his battered body. To reassure him that, of course, he hadn't let her down. It was quite the opposite.

"Give me the note," she said at last, wiping her eyes.

He handed it over and she knelt in front of the drawer, rummaging for a pen. She found one, sat down on the floor, and started poking tiny holes in the note with the pen's sharpened tip. Ignis waited silently, a look of curiosity on his face. When she was done, she shifted onto her knees and moved in front of him, resting her forearms on his thighs.

Ignis was taken aback by her sudden closeness. He stiffened a little before finding her forearms with his hands and running them up to her fingers, where she held the note. He took it from her and felt the ridges of the tiny holes under his fingers.

"What's this?" Ignis asked.

"I'm not going to read it. You are."

He furrowed his brow and smoothed the note on his left palm, running the tips of his index finger over the holes, searching for a pattern. It was a simple one, and as he followed the curves of the shape and recognized it, he smiled.

It was a heart.

"Can I have a pen and paper?" he asked.

Aranea reached into the drawer and gave him a square from a small notepad, and the pen she had used to poke the holes with. Ignis took the pen and did his best to draw an outline of a shape as well. He handed her the note. Aranea looked at the slightly crooked heart he had drawn, and her lips curled into a smile, letting out a little laugh. She looked up at him as he brushed a hand over her cheek.

It seemed quite fitting for them to say so much without uttering a word.

She moved closer in between Ignis' thighs and rose to meet his lips. She kissed him gingerly, conscious of his scars, but he kissed her back with greater pressure.

Then, to her surprise, she felt his body convulse a little, one tiny pulse that echoed throughout. He convulsed again, breathing in sharply this time. Aranea pulled back to see what was wrong, only to find his cheeks streaked with tears. He lowered his head, as if he could be the one to hide now.

"Sorry…" he muttered between sharp intakes of breath. "It's so…"

Aranea's usual instinct to be the one to fall apart or run away didn't kick in. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Ignis and pulled him close.

"I know," she replied. "It fucking sucks."

He almost laughed at that comment, keeping his face buried in her neck. He planted small kisses on her as his breathing calmed down.

"So we only have tonight?" Aranea asked.

"I'm afraid so."

"Then let's pretend again."

"I thought you said it was stupid."

"Doesn't mean it's not nice."

Ignis pulled back a little, cupping her face and running his thumbs over her lips.

"I do miss this view," he said.

"Good thing you promised to never forget how these fantastic breasts of mine look."

Ignis laughed a little and leaned in to kiss her again, this time harder and more desperate. The two notes fell to the ground as he pulled her up onto the bed, one heart landing on top of the other.

 **Next Chapter: Ignis explores Aranea all over again… And we bring this story to its bittersweet end :)**


	10. At Least Until Morning

_Author's Note: I said this was likely going to be the last chapter. Then I started writing it, beginning with some good ol' fashioned smut, and next thing I knew I wrote over 3,000 words… of smut. So there's definitely one more chapter coming after this. For now, I leave you here with all the smut—wrapped in a bit of character development, of course ;)_

 **PART TEN: AT LEAST UNTIL MORNING**

Ignis hadn't entertained what intimacy would be like since he lost his sight. There were far more pressing matters, and it never even entered his mind—until now.

He hadn't considered the frustration of wanting to see the little details; or how his hands would become an even more essential guide to getting his lips where he wanted them; or how certain sensations would feel far more intense.

Their time together at Cape Caem had been exploratory and even a bit tentative, but there was no room for that here. As Ignis pulled Aranea onto the bed, she placed her legs on either side of him, straddling him. She took his glasses off, reaching and placing them on the bedside table, and examined his face closely. Her first touch to his large, starburst-shaped scar made him flinch, and she wondered if it was pain or embarrassment.

"Does it hurt?" Aranea asked.

"Not really. It's just… I can't imagine it's very pleasant to look at," Ignis said, as his eyes dropped.

"You're going to have to stop that right now, you hear? Your scars will never be a problem for me."

"They don't bother you?"

"Honestly, if they hadn't caused you so much pain, I'd say they're kind of hot."

Ignis pulled Aranea closer, burying his face in her neck and kissing her collarbone.

"And hey," Aranea said, running her fingers through his hair. "I thought we're pretending for the night."

"I'm afraid I can't pretend this one thing away," Ignis replied.

"Yeah… guess you can't."

Aranea thought about this a moment, and knew he was right. They couldn't pretend quite the same way they did at Cape Caem. But she was getting more comfortable with this whole not-running-away idea, so why not take things for what they were?

"How about," she continued, "we don't pretend all this shit didn't happen. You're blind, I'm scared of getting close, and we're both still getting used to all of this. But tomorrow…"

"Tomorrow is an open book," Ignis finished for her.

"Exactly. We can pretend about tomorrow."

"Yes… So let's pretend I'm not leaving in the morning."

"That's a good start."

Ignis ran his hands up Aranea's back, feeling that she was wearing only a tank top. He pulled it over her head and tossed it aside, then ran his hands down her back and over her hips, realizing that she was in her underwear.

"Are you always this indecent when you have company?" he asked.

"Only when there's no consequence," she said, standing up and pulling her underwear down, then sitting back down on him, now fully naked.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but there are about to be some consequences," Ignis replied, running his hands over her bare ass and giving them a squeeze. "You're fully naked."

"I've got socks on."

"No you don't," he said, feeling her feet.

"Busted. But you're still fully clothed. Seems a bit unfair," she pouted.

"I want to feel you for a moment longer. I'm… remembering."

Ignis let his hands trigger the memories for him. He ran his hands up and down her body as she remained straddling him, recalling as many details as he could. Her scars from the injuries he tended to on her thigh were a bit rough, but felt like they had healed well. Her stomach was flat but soft, and his hands ran over a small mole he'd noticed before, as if confirming his memories were intact. Her breasts were still that teardrop shape, and her nipples hardened as his hands brushed over them.

Aranea shifted her hips forward into him, feeling that he was fully aroused. Ignis took a sharp breath at this motion; he hadn't been aroused since his injury. Some of his senses were already getting more acute and, apparently, it didn't stop with his hearing. He felt almost desperate to be inside her warmth again.

After ample time letting Ignis' hands explore her body, Aranea placed her own on his shoulders and pushed him back. Something about being this exposed in front of him, even though he couldn't see her, made her feel all the more exhilarated—though she was getting impatient to undress him.

As Ignis lay at her whim, Aranea hovered above and kissed him deeply as her fingers moved down his shirt, undoing the buttons. She spread the shirt apart and pressed her breasts against his chest, letting go of a deep, soft moan at the contact.

She sat back up, taking her turn to admire him. Back at Cape Caem, there was so much going on that she felt she nearly missed this—missed certain details. He had a few small freckles on his abdomen, as he did on his face. Her hands trailed down his chest and stomach, running over the smooth skin, the trail of hair under his belly button, and landing at his belt, which she unbuckled easily.

Grabbing the belt loops, Aranea started pulling Ignis' trousers down as he kicked his shoes off, and threw the trousers aside. She then removed his socks for good measure.

"You don't get to wear these either," she said playfully.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Aranea ran her hands over the bottoms of his feet, giving them a slight tickle and laughing at Ignis' knee-jerk reaction.

"Are you more ticklish now too?" she asked.

"I didn't think it would be possible, but apparently I am," he laughed.

She ran her hands up his legs and hooked her fingers on the hem of his underwear, teasing a pulling motion without actually removing them. Instead, Aranea moved to his navel, placing small kisses there. She peered up at him and noticed Ignis basking in this attention. Not that she hadn't reciprocated what he had given her in Cape Caem, but it felt different somehow—as if he hadn't expected her to show this sort of interest now that he was damaged.

Moving a bit lower, inches above his underwear, she moved a hand over him and felt the hardness. He let out an audible sigh at the contact. Her hand massaged up and down, then her mouth found him too, underwear still on, and she let out a warm breath. Ignis' hand felt around for her and wound his fingers around hers.

Aranea slid his underwear off, tossing it next to the discarded socks. She then pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, adding it to the pile. She licked her hand and placed it on him, wrapping her fingers tight and moving up and down slowly. Ignis propped himself up on his elbows as if he were watching her do this—which, she now recalled, he had enjoyed doing. Was he picturing her now, as she looked up at his unseeing eyes and ran a tongue softly over the tip?

Her tongue moved back and forth, and she studied his expressions—the subtle changes on his face or the twitching muscles in his upper arms. She then placed her lips over him and enveloped him deeply.

"Ah…" Ignis breathed, finally getting that full, warm sensation he was craving.

Aranea moved her mouth and hand in synchronicity, judging the speed by his reactions, her tongue dancing over him. She moved a little faster, pausing every now and then with a generous lick along the shaft to the tip before enveloping him again. Ignis particularly seemed to enjoy this moment of suspension, the brief rush of cool air before the warmth of her mouth returned.

Truth be told, Aranea couldn't remember ever enjoying this so much. Usually it was somewhat of a chore that appeased men, one that seemed only fair if they had put in similar efforts. But with Ignis, she didn't care if he returned anything. She didn't find her mind wandering to mundane tasks or thinking about her orders for the next day. She was here in the moment with him, enjoying every build in his expression, and feeling herself throbbing in response. She felt as if, if she were to touch herself right now, she could come in no time.

Ignis squeezed her free hand harder. He was tensing up and Aranea could tell he was getting close. He sat up straight, running his hands up and down her back as she increased her speed. He gripped her hard, his hips moving with her now and his body curling over her frame.

As if to encourage him, Aranea wrapped an arm around Ignis' waist, pulling him as close as she could, and moved her mouth and hand over him furiously. I want you to come, she thought.

Ignis thrust forward harder and his hands dug into her back as he released right into her mouth. Aranea now moved slower, gentler, letting him finish. He slumped over her, hands releasing and rubbing the spots he had grabbed a little harder than he intended—not that she minded.

Slowly, Aranea peeled her lips away. She raised herself up, and Ignis ran his hands over her face, placing his forehead against hers.

"Thank you for that…" he whispered. Ever the gentleman, he had thanked her in Cape Caem too, but this was filled with so much more gratitude.

"You don't ever have to thank me, you know," Aranea said.

Ignis kissed her then, pulling her back onto his lap.

"Your turn, m'lady," he said playfully.

"I won't say no, but there's no hurry," she replied. "Let's just hang out for a sec."

Aranea scooted onto the bed, pulling Ignis after her. She lay down and pulled him on top, wrapping her legs around him. He brushed his fingers through her hair, faces inches away from one another.

"So what's it like?" Aranea asked.

"What is what like?" Ignis asked innocently.

"You know… this. Without being able to…"

"Ah, I see—or I don't, rather. But you wish to know, what's it like now that I'm blind?"

"That was a stupid question, you don't have to answer that," Aranea said quickly.

"It's… intense," Ignis replied. "Yes, that's the word. It's as if all of your other senses matter more, so you pay more attention to them. At least, that's what I felt this time around…"

She knew she had no business asking, but Aranea couldn't stop herself: "Were there other times around… with other people?"

"No, not at all. I just meant… this is the only time I've been in any sort of… state like this, since it happened." Ignis pulled her tighter. "Aranea, since Cape Caem, you're the only one who's been on my mind. Unless Noctis counts."

Aranea laughed at this, but she knew there was more weight to his quip. Noctis—his duty, his closest friend—would come before her. Ignis had already given his sight for him; he was ready to give it all. She didn't waste time having any sort of feelings about this though. She merely accepted it.

"I know that duty will call," Aranea said, "but hey, don't let anything else happen to you. Okay? You're supposed to try and outlive me, remember?"

Ignis smiled at the memory of them skinny dipping, when he found out she was several years older and had joked that he could at least live as long as her.

"I do love a challenge," he said playfully. "I'll try my hardest to outlive you."

"Good."

Aranea pressed her hips into him, feeling him getting aroused again. Ignis reciprocated the motion and kissed her collarbone.

"Now, how about your turn?" he grinned.

Aranea responded with a low, throaty laugh as his lips moved over her breast, tongue massaging a nipple. His hand roamed lower, never lifting off her skin so that he could build a more accurate map of her body in his mind. He traced his fingers up her inner thigh, and she moved her legs apart in response. He recalled her on the pier in Caem, when he had watched her spread before him, wet from the water and glistening in the sunlight. She had let him see her in detail, completely unabashed, every curving shape and color and detail laid bare. No one he had ever been with before was this open, usually preferring dim lights that left far more to the imagination.

Now that all he had was imagination, he was especially thankful she had let him see her like that.

Ignis' hand reached the top of her inner thigh, his fingers moving gently to trace between her legs. He worked slowly, teasing almost, as he kissed her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under his mouth. He spread her apart and slid a finger inside. _Thud thud thud thud._

"Tell me you want more," Ignis breathed into Aranea's neck.

"Yes…" Of course she wanted more.

Another finger slipped in as Ignis shifted down to between her legs. He paused and looked up, as if he could read her expression. He maintained his supposed eye contact as he ran a tongue over her. Aranea let out a low and relieved moan to finally feel him there again.

"Am I remembering how you like it?" Ignis asked in between running his tongue along her.

"Oh, yes."

"I wish I could see your face, so that I can know for certain."

"You don't need to see my face. Just read the other signs."

As if to make her point, Aranea shimmied her hips and ran a hand through Ignis' hair, pulling him in. He placed his mouth on her in response, moving his tongue in circles. He worked steadily, taking her advice and judging if she wanted it slower or faster, deeper or lighter. if her increased breathing and moans were anything to go by, he was doing an excellent job of gaging this—perhaps even better than before. But instead of taking Aranea all the way, he pulled back from when he started feeling her tightening up.

"Not yet," he said, his voice more demanding now.

He lay on top and teased her with entering, but not letting her have the satisfaction. She pressed against him, hands on his ass, trying to push him in.

"You want it?" Ignis asked playfully.

"Yes, dammit. You know, you were much easier before," Aranea teased back.

"I've learned about the benefits of yearning."

"Yearning?"

Ignis pressed a little closer to her, almost inside her but not quite.

"There are so many things I yearn to do now that I can't immediately. But when I finally figure it out, there is so much…" he pressed inside her, "… satisfaction."

Aranea breathed in sharply, wrapping her legs around him to get as deep as possible. He was right; it felt like a special kind of satisfaction. It felt like she had been waiting forever, and now it was hers.

"You have a point," she said, trying to maintain her breath.

Ignis kissed her as he moved, deep and slow, till Aranea was practically begging him for more. He smiled at her mischievously and, in a quick move, got off, spun her around on all fours, and playfully slapped a hand onto her ass. He licked her from behind, running his tongue up between her cheeks, and then entered her again.

He reached around to her front, running his hands over a breast and then down, stimulating her. Aranea stretched her hands out in front and arched her back, letting him hit her in just the right spot from the inside too.

The hesitant Ignis that had showed up at her door was gone, and she didn't mind one bit.

After letting him stay in control a while longer, Aranea decided it was time to switch up the dynamic—she wasn't about to let Ignis think he had all the upper hand. She shoved her hips backward suddenly, sending him falling out of her and onto his elbows. She turned around and pinned him down by the wrists before he could respond, straddling him.

"That's enough, Four Eyes—"

Aranea stopped suddenly, realizing what she had said. Instead of looking hurt though, Ignis started laughing.

"Technically, the term ought to be No Eyes," he chuckled.

"I am not calling you that."

"Then call me what you will. I just like to hear you say it."

"Oh?"

"I want to hear you screaming my name," Ignis said with a buck of his hips.

"Your bros might hear."

"All the better."

"Let's get to work then."

Aranea started riding him, keeping his hands pinned. Sweat dripped between her breasts and onto Ignis, but he was just as wet. She finally let go of his hands to prop herself higher, and Ignis grabbed her hips, moving her against him. Aranea was fulfilling her promise, her moans getting louder and louder, his name coming off her tongue like a hiss.

Wanting to coax more out of her, Ignis sat up and grabbed Aranea in his arms, then stood and took a few paces to the nearby wall, pinning her against it hard and holding her up as he continued to move inside her. He was glad he had kept track of the paces from the door to the bed.

Aranea did get louder, but she also got rowdier now that their game shifted again in Ignis' favor. She used her dragoon skills to hoist herself up high over his shoulders, and flipped around behind him. She pinned him against the wall now. He was a fair bit taller than her 5'6" frame without heels, and his ass was at the level of her navel. She grinded against him the best she could, biting the skin between his shoulder blades. She reached a hand down between his cheeks, massaging there for a moment before moving further down between his legs and fondling him from behind.

"Maybe I want you to scream my name too," she purred.

"As the lady wishes."

"Ever the gentleman."

She turned him around and jumped on him, straddling with her strong legs, and guided him back inside her. Ignis stumbled back to the bed, lying her down while he stood at the edge, and moved furiously. She propped herself up for leverage, and the two battled it out with their hips.

Aranea said his name with abandon, screamed it aloud so everyone could hear that, no, he wasn't damaged. No one had to feel sorry for him. She came so hard, even harder than at Cape Caem, that she thought her body might never stop convulsing. She was surrendering the battle and Ignis was still going—but not for much longer as he thrust a few more times before collapsing, burying himself deep, and her name exhaling from his mouth like one huge breath of gratitude.

They crawled onto the bed, limbs now heavy and tangled up. Ignis rested his head on Aranea's shoulder, his hair tickling her jaw. They lay there for a while, breath slowly calming down.

"You know," Aranea whispered, breaking the silence, "you have a place here too, if you want."

"You wish for me to stay?"

Aranea thought about this before answering. "I do," she said at last, "but only if you wanted to. I know you have your duty to the King."

"I thought we were still pretending that tomorrow is an open book."

"Are we?"

"At least until morning. If you don't mind."

"'Course not."

Ignis took her hand and kissed it, and she nuzzled his head. She was certain he wouldn't stay, but she had to at least let him know she wanted him to. And he had to let her know he wanted to pretend that he could.

It wasn't everything, but it was more than they ever had.

 **Next Chapter:** It's hard to say goodbye…


	11. It's Hard to Say Goodbye

_Author's Note: I'm not going to say much here… except I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it :)_

 **PART ELEVEN: IT'S HARD TO SAY GOODBYE**

The morning came too soon. Ignis and Aranea woke in a tangle and slowly, reluctantly, peeled themselves apart. The mood was heavy, the safety net of the long night gone. While no harsh light came streaming through the windows like it had at Cape Caem, the unwelcome alarm on Aranea's phone did the job instead. It was the worst sound she had ever heard, and she would promptly change it later that day—after Ignis boarded the train.

Aranea helped find Ignis' clothes, handing them over in silence. His face was forlorn, and she didn't know what to say. After they were both dressed, they sat on the bed, side by side. Ignis broke the silence at last.

"So… I suppose this will be goodbye for a while," he said.

"Yeah. It sucks though," she replied.

"It does indeed. Will you… be all right?"

"What, all by myself? You know me. I'm a tough cookie," Aranea said, nudging her elbow against Ignis.

"If you can get word to me, I would like to know that you're okay. For peace of mind."

"Yeah, same. Try to message me. Who knows, it might go through."

"We could always send notes, even if I have to write it in braille."

"Ha. True. I'll decipher it…" Aranea took Ignis' hand in hers. "And hey, when we do reunite, we should all have a big party again. Get everyone together and celebrate saving the world."

"It's a date. Speaking of which, I also insist on taking you on a proper one of those after this saving-the-world party."

"Oh? Are we going to officially date now too?" Aranea didn't mind the sound of it at all.

"If we are to grow old together, I would certainly hope there would be a date first."

Aranea looked at Ignis, looked at the scars on his face—a reminder of just how bad things could get—and felt her eyes well up. She blinked the tears back and ran a hand along Ignis' jawline, then kissed him. He pulled her close and returned the kiss, and his thumb wiped at a tear that managed to escape. He felt bad for making her cry, but, secretly, also a little better knowing that she cared this much.

It made it easier to go and fight.

—

The real goodbyes happened over breakfast, with everyone crammed into the booth. Iris sat between Noctis and Gladio, and Ignis and Aranea across from them, looking a little sheepish after the noise they made overnight.

Normally, Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto would have had a field day over this. They would have mercilessly teased Ignis—and even Aranea, knowing that she could handle it just fine—but Prompto's absence made it feel wrong. That didn't stop the occasional wink or comment, of course, but it was nowhere as bad as it would have been.

"You sure you won't be too tired today, Iggy?" Gladio asked. "You didn't get much sleep."

"I assure you, Gladio, I'm fine," said Ignis, squeezing Aranea's thigh under the table.

"And besides," Aranea added, "he's probably more, uh, relaxed than you are now."

"You sure you don't want to join us, Aranea?" Noctis asked.

"I wish I could… But I have all the people here to take care of, not to mention Iris. Plus I've never operated a train before. If we're being pragmatic, Biggs and Wedge will be your best bet."

"Yeah. But if you ever change your mind, you've always got a place here, okay?" Noctis said. He smiled at her genuinely, and for the first time, Aranea felt truly sad for the King.

She knew he had been through a lot, but it hadn't sunk in till now. And yet here he was, still moving forward. If it had been her, what would she have done? At what point would she have given up?

"Thank you Noctis," she said. "I hope the opportunity comes up soon."

"Well, I guess this is it then," Iris interjected quietly. "At least for a little while. You guys be careful, okay? Ignis, take care of yourself. Noct, you know I'm always here for you. And Gladdy…" she started to tear up, "you better come back safe and sound, okay? You're all I have left."

Gladio enveloped a crying Iris in his big arms. Noctis also wrapped himself around them, and Ignis instinctively reached out to grab everyone's hand. Even Aranea, after a moment of hesitation, reached her hand to join theirs.

—

Aranea stood on the platform, watching the three men get ready to board the train. Iris decided to stay back at the cafe—it was too much for her to watch them leave again.

Aranea had snuck in one last kiss with Ignis as they walked over. It had been light and sweet and she was fairly certain he was tracing a heart on her palm with his finger as they walked, hand in hand.

Now, at the platform, Aranea was putting her mask back on and focusing on the tasks at hand. It was easier that way.

"Don't worry about the civilians," she said to the three. "They're in my good hands. Can't say the same for you. Watch yourselves in the capital."

"We will," Ignis replied, though his calm voice belied a hint of worry. He turned and allowed Gladio to guide him to the door of the train.

"Thanks, Aranea," Noctis said, hesitating. "We'll see you around."

Aranea nodded to him, noting how his face was set much like hers, his own mask on. She felt a certain kinship with Noctis, a mutual understanding. If she had only known this was the last time she'd ever see him, she might have said more.

As Noctis turned and walked toward the train, a few snowflakes gently fell from above—a strange occurrence at this warm time of the year.

"It's… snowing," Aranea heard Noctis say, as he stalled in front of the train.

"Get your ass on board," Gladio shouted from the door.

"Yes, sir."

He hopped on, and Aranea watched the three of them through a window. As the train pulled away, Ignis held something up against the glass, as if he knew she was watching him.

It was the note with the heart she had made by poking holes through the paper. She smiled and reached her hand into her pocket, feeling his reciprocal note there.

It comforted her as the train sped out of sight. Is this what Ignis had felt when she left Cape Caem, watching her speed off into the distance?

Well, it was damn painful.

—

A couple of days later, the airship was packed full of scared refugees, but Aranea had little choice. In what appeared to be a sudden change in atmosphere, the sky went even darker, darker than any night Aranea had known, and Tenebrae was suddenly overrun by the most vicious of daemons. The city was in utter chaos, and it was all she could do to evacuate as many people as possible.

After cramming the survivors into her airship, Aranea noticed one missing person in particular: Iris.

She couldn't leave without the girl, should she wish to live another day next time she met Gladio. She rushed around camp, fighting off daemons as she desperately screamed Iris' name. She then remembered the cafe; it was the last place she saw her as they silently ate a meal together, their feet touching under the table as a reminder that they weren't alone.

Aranea fought her way to the restaurant. As she reached the entrance, a wolf-like daemon pounced on her from behind, pinning her to the ground. She kicked it off and easily speared it, but more were coming. She pushed the door open and quickly slipped in, slamming the door onto several talons and snouts, then locked it.

"Iris! Iris, for the love of the Six, tell me you're in here!"

At first there was nothing. And then: "Aranea!"

It was coming from the next car, the sleeping quarters. Aranea made her way over and quickly found the girl, who had been gathering items that could double as weapons in a pile. There were knives from the restaurant, a metal bar, a few large shards of glass, and a flare gun.

"I was going to fight my way out," she said, looking like she was somewhere between rage and tears. "But I didn't know what would be effective against the daemons!"

"Pick up the flare gun and the largest knife and come with me," Aranea ordered.

They made their way back to the door Aranea had entered in, and she grabbed the flare gun from Iris.

"When I say run, we run like hell, okay? To my airship."

"Okay, I'm ready!"

Aranea kicked the door right off and, sure enough, the daemons wasted no time bounding over. She fired the flare gun and it worked spectacularly, the light itself tossing the daemons back like an explosion.

"RUN!"

The two women sprinted toward the airship, Aranea spearing daemons out of her way and Iris following close behind. As Aranea sliced across the belly of a daemon, another much larger one jumped her from behind, pinning her to the ground. This one was too heavy for her to kick off, and she had dropped her spear as she went down.

Instinctively, Iris jumped on the daemon from behind with a battle cry, knife in hand, and stabbed the thing several times in the throat. Blood came spewing out, and the daemon slumped as Iris jumped off and kicked the beast away from Aranea, who lay there covered in blood and arching an eyebrow at Iris. Then Aranea's instincts kicked in again, and she was back on her feet in no time, telling Iris to keep running.

They made it to the airship, and the refugees shot at pursuing daemons as the doors closed. One managed to wriggle in halfway, but Aranea made quick work of it with her spear landing between its eyes, and shoved it back out as the gap closed.

She pushed through the crowd to the front of the airship and prepared for takeoff. Once safely in the air, she set the ship to their destination: Gralea.

—

With the airship on autopilot, Aranea took Iris into her private quarters for a rest, a space which she had managed to keep free of refugees. She found a towel and tried her best to get the daemon blood off of both of them. Iris sat on her bed, eyes forward and looking empty, as Aranea cleaned the girl off.

"You okay?" Aranea asked.

Iris gave her a small and slow nod in response.

"You want to talk about it?" she tried again.

Iris shook her head and lowered her eyes to the ground, but no tears came—as if she'd lost the ability to cry altogether. This was turning into a very cruel world, Aranea thought, if someone like Iris could be broken like this. What could possibly cheer her up now?

"Hey, you want some gossip?" she tried. She really didn't feel like talking about it, but it was all she could think of.

"You mean you and Ignis?" Iris replied, her voice surprisingly monotonous.

"Uh, yeah… I guess it was pretty obvious."

"Be careful, Aranea."

"What? Why?"

"Look around you… Nothing good will last in this world. I just hope Noctis can fix it soon."

"I… I guess you're right." Aranea wiped some daemon blood from Iris' forehead. "But I guess we have to at least pretend that it's not so bad. Otherwise, how can we get through this?"

Who the hell was she, giving the pep talks?

"Pretend," Iris said.

"Yeah. Like a little game of make-believe. Everyday… until it's actually better."

"Okay."

Iris lay down on the bed and turned her back to Aranea. She looked so small all of a sudden, so young and vulnerable. Aranea didn't know what beckoned her to do this, but she shifted onto the bed and curled herself around Iris. As she held her, Iris' body began to shake, and Aranea held her until the shaking stopped and Iris drifted off to sleep.

Although she never pegged herself as a maternal kind, maybe there was something in Aranea after all.

—

When Aranea saw the three silhouettes emerging from the building the crystal was housed in, she immediately recognized Gladio and Ignis (with a sigh of relief for the latter), but was momentarily confused by the third figure. Noctis? But it didn't quite move like him. No… it was Prompto. The King was nowhere to be seen.

The trio didn't even notice her until she called out to them. "Thought you boys could use a ride," she said, though her tone was far from her usual playfulness.

She noticed Ignis raise his head in her direction and, for a moment, he smiled weakly. He walked toward her and reached his arm out, which she grabbed as soon as he was close enough and pulled him close.

"Thank the Gods, you're okay," Aranea said.

"I am. But Noct…"

"Is he…?"

"No. But he's gone."

They joined Aranea on her airship full of refugees. Iris reunited with Gladio, though not with the same exuberance as in Tenebrae, especially when she noticed the absence of Noctis. Prompto seemed inconsolable and went off to brood in a corner by himself. A kindly old lady put a hand on his shoulder, which he grabbed as he silently cried.

Aranea and Ignis curled up on her bed, in the privacy of her room, without a word. She held Ignis as he lay there lost in thought, not crying, not saying anything, but just lying there. Whatever he'd witnessed, whatever images his mind created for him, had changed him.

—

Lestallum seemed like the best option, given the reactor and the abundant energy source to maintain the lights, which helped keep daemons at bay. Aranea set the ship down just outside the borders, and the group lead the refugees to some semblance of safety in an already chaotic city.

Accommodation was a challenge, and they all crammed into a hotel room for the first several nights. Aranea and Ignis shared a bed, as did Prompto and Iris after Gladio proved to be too uncomfortably big for the young girl to sleep next to. The atmosphere was hardly romantic though, and while Ignis and Aranea had an unspoken understanding that they belonged to one another in some way, they were hardly following the day-to-day of a regular couple, or getting any time alone for name-screaming evenings. Everything was about the business at hand.

Eventually, people began to get their bearings and relax into this new—if hardly ideal—way of life. Aranea found an old army friend, Zaya, from Niflheim who had also defected and had been hiding out in Lestallum for several months. Although Aranea was her superior, it didn't stop them from sharing many a drunken night in their youth, and the two reminisced about those nights on occasion.

Zaya also had a small apartment with a bathroom and a tiny kitchenette. It wasn't much, but it was something—and lucky, given the crowded housing situation. One day, while out on daemon patrol, Zaya wasn't quite so lucky though. She ended up in Lestallum's packed hospital with serious wounds and blood loss. Aranea was a match and donated what she could, given the short supply, but it was too late. As Zaya grew weaker, she did manage to bestow one parting gift: her apartment. With no one else to inherit it, Aranea would be the one. No one else was with her in her final hours, so it was the least Zaya could do. Aranea stayed with her till she took her last breath.

It was a turning point with Ignis. She invited him to share the apartment with her, even though her hands shook as she did. Sure, she had been staying in the hotel room with him and the others, but this felt far more serious. Ignis took her shaking hands in his own as she asked, and Aranea immediately calmed down.

Yes, this was right.

As their new life in the dark became more and more routine, fighting daemons and surviving each day, they grew closer. Ignis asked Aranea one day if she recalled their conversation back in Cape Caem about what their family would look like. Of course Aranea recalled, but it was no time to talk about such things. Ignis smile and shrugged, continuing to stir the pot of whatever deliciousness he was cooking in the tiny kitchenette. Aranea looked at him and wished very much that they could revisit that conversation in more seriousness.

Maybe one day.

—

10 years passed in darkness. When the call that Aranea both dreaded and awaited came, she didn't try to stop him.

"Don't you dare think about not coming back," she said, hands cupped around his face.

"I'll try, my love."

"No, Ignis. No. You're coming back."

"Aranea…"

"There's no pretending here, okay? No pretending. You're coming back, and that is all there is to it."

Ignis smiled, but it wasn't a very convincing one. It was full of love and sadness. He kissed her and they slipped notes in each other's hands, a tradition they had kept up and refined. They had their own system now, inspired by Aranea poking those holes to make a heart many years ago.

As Ignis left, Aranea looked at the tiny holes on her note. It translated to "I love you forever," and she felt sick to her stomach at how much it felt like a goodbye.

Her own note to him said something very different.

—

 _It was hot._

 _There was pain._

 _Not just the pain of Noctis' revelation._

 _But the pain of hit after hit after hit._

 _Rubble. Smoke._

 _He was choking._

 _He didn't have much more in him._

 _He was fading._

 _Next thing he knew, there were colors._

 _Blues, purples, calming and strange._

 _He saw Noctis standing there._

 _He saw his brothers by his side._

 _He saw their enemy in front of them._

 _He gave all his strength to Noctis in that moment._

 _Do it._

 _I know you can._

 _As Noctis raised his arm, the scene faded away._

 _And then his finger twitched over something._

 _It was flimsy and wet from his sweat._

 _It was almost impossible to read anymore._

 _The paper was so thin._

 _But his fingers weakly ran over the words anyway:_

 _"Don't you dare think about it."_

 _Don't…_

 _She'll be angry._

 _She'll be sad._

 _Don't you dare…_

 _He didn't want to._

 _Not this time._

 _He gathered his strength from the tips of his fingers._

 _He let it pass through his body._

 _He willed himself to feel the light again._

 **Next Chapter:** Epilogue


	12. A Beautiful Sunrise

_Author's Note: Well… here you have it._

 **EPILOGUE: A BEAUTIFUL SUNRISE**

The hunched old figure made its way up the countless steps slowly in the dewy morning. Though once it was hardly a challenge, it felt like an eternity now. Her legs ached. Her balance wasn't what it used to be. But she continued on. Every year, she had made her way to this very spot on this very day. The day the sun came back.

The weathered old face of the woman breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the last step. She walked across the grassy plain to the stones at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the ocean.

Four perfectly equal gravestones. The middle one belonged to the King, but it was no different than the rest—not any bigger or more elaborate. He would have insisted on it.

The King's stone was old and weather-worn; the other three showed varying degrees of wear. The old woman shuffled her way to the one just right of the King's. It was the newest and easiest to read.

Ignis Scientia  
Loving husband, father, and brother  
Died age 92

"You know," Aranea muttered, "you were supposed to outlive me."

Now into her centennials, she had surpassed her own expectations, and couldn't blame him for not quite keeping up. She certainly didn't make it easy for him.

But he had given her 10 good years in the darkness.

And then he gave her another 60 in the light—something she wasn't convinced he would do the night that he left. But then in the rubble and on his last breath, he found her words echoing through his head: Don't you dare think about it.

Aranea was forever glad she didn't send him off with an "I love you" instead. She considered it, but she knew that would have given him permission to fade away. So she took a risk with something far less romantic. Besides, after 10 years, he had better have known that she loved him.

Aranea knelt down in front of the gravestone with some difficulty. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a fresh note, then placed it in front of the gravestone, along with a few other decaying ones. She liked to visit him as often as she could and leave him these gifts. It made her feel better.

She looked over her shoulder at the old house of Cape Caem, now a museum paying homage to Noctis' journey. As she stared at it through her glasses (she needed a pair eventually too), she could almost see her and the four boys and Iris, laughing and drinking and playing games in the living room. She could envision her and Ignis on the porch, awkwardly flirting. She could see the two of them making love for the first time through the bedroom window. She could see them at this very spot where she knelt, overlooking the water. She could picture every detail of Ignis' face, every curve of his lips and every freckle. His eyes were so green. Gods, he was so young then.

Noctis had found his resting place far too soon. Prompto followed suit decades later, never fully able to be himself again—though there would be beautiful moments when a little bit of the old Prompto would come shining through for a moment. Gladio went with an illness that even he couldn't fight, hard as he tried. Iris slipped away a few years ago, surrounded by the small but devoted family she would eventually create. And Ignis, he had simply been around for so long, and his body had taken its share of damage over the years. And, deep down, Aranea didn't think he wanted to outlive her—just get very close.

At his bedside, the morning he went, he had been waiting for the sun to come up and she was curled around him on the bed, afraid to leave his side. So much for that young woman who would run when things got hard.

"What a beautiful sunrise," he had said as the warm rays struck his aged face, the scars almost blended into the wrinkles and age spots.

"Yes. So beautiful," she replied, and buried her face in his neck. His arm tightened around her with a strength she hadn't felt in a while, and then gently went heavy. She knew in that moment that he was gone, but stayed wrapped around him a while longer before notifying anyone.

She wasn't angry, of course—just sad. What else could she possibly feel? He had come back, after all, and she had stopped running. They stopped having to pretend and actually lived that fantasy they had talked about in the kitchen at Cape Caem, or some version of it anyway. And they had been happy.

Aranea ran an arthritic hand along the ground in front of her. Others would be coming soon, to celebrate the return of the sun and pay their homage to these heroes. But before they did, she would take this moment.

Even 70 years together didn't feel quite like enough. But it was certainly something.

 **Final Thoughts:** First of all, thank you so much for everyone who read this, commented, liked, anything at all. I appreciate each and every one of you for your support! Second, a couple chapters back I asked if you wanted the more depressing ending or the less depressing one. Well, this is the less depressing one. For anyone curious, the more depressing ending would have still had Aranea visiting Ignis' grave, but he would have died along with the bros and she spent her entire life bringing him notes every year, unable to fully let go. As I was writing it, that felt too cruel, and it naturally came to this conclusion instead. It just felt right.

If you're wondering what I'll be doing next, I've already started writing some more HighSpecs possibilities, and I plan to expand The Far and Distant Light—my first HighSpecs! And who knows what other pairings I'll throw in there :)


End file.
